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11 




M^]LA.]RAR{n)m^CE IDE STiVTElL^UKDl^STlBIE^ 



Jiostotv Carter ^v. Sendee. 



THE 



BIOGRAPHIES 



O? 



MADAME DE 3TAEL, 



A3VJ) 



MADAME ROLAND. 



BY MRS CHILD, 

AUTHOR OF ' HOBOMOK,' ' THE MOTHER'S BOOK/ &C 




BOSTON, 

PUBLISHED BY CARTER AND HEKDEE, 

1832. 



.^ ' ^^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, 

By Carter & Hewdee, 
in the Clerk's office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



//^4 



PRINTED BY lis. R, BUTl'S 



K 



TO 

GEORGE TICKNOR, Esq., 
^T^fs Uolume 

IS 

RESPECTFULLY AND GRATEFULLY 

INSCRIBED, BY 

THE EDITOR. 



PREFACE. 



The object of the Ladies' Family Library is to fur- 
nish a series of volumes, which will suit the taste, and 
interest the feelings of women. If this object be not 
attained, it certainly will not be for want of abundant 
materials. 

Biograpliy is so universally fascinating, that it was 
very naturally the first subject presented to my mind; 
and I believe I am not mistaken in supposing that the 
Lives of Madame de Stael and Madame Roland will 
prove unusually attractive, both on account of their 
own great qualities, and the very exciting historical 
events with which they are so intimately connected. 

The amount of labor bestowed upon succeeding 
volumes will vary according to circumstances ; but all 
will be prepared and arranged by the Editor, and will 
contain more or less of original writing. 



v^ 



Vlll 



The present volume has been no easy task ; partic- 
ularly the biography of Madame de Stael. It was 
necessary to consult many volumes, most of which 
contained but little ; and the orderly arrangement of 
this mosaic, together with the groundwork in which it 
was to be inlaid, required some patience. Madame 
Necker de Saussure has given a most eloquent sketch 
of Madame de Sta'el's character and writings ; bat she 
has passed lightly over events, and has furnished no 
dates. 

For much information, some of which could not 
have been obtained elsewhere, I am indebted to the 
very interesting Lectures on French Literature by 
Professor Ticknor, which the author had the kindness 
to loan me in MS. 

As Madame Roland had written an account of her- 
self, the materials for her biography were in a more 
compact form: It has, however, been necessary to 
abridge useless details, to add such information as 
could be gained from other sources, to arrange what 
was confused, and to explain the political relation of 
parties. 

I at first intended to include Madame de Stael and 
Madame Guyon in the same volume ; and I believe it 
was so advertised. The arrangement was accidental ^ 



IX 



and upon reflection, it seemed very incongruous to 
place together two characters so opposite, that, had they 
lived at the same period, they never would willingly 
have remained long in each other's presence. The 
spiritual Madame Guyon despised the world as heartily 
as the intellectual Madame de Stael loved it ; and by 
placing them in the same volume, readers who were 
interested in one biography, would have been com- 
pelled to purchase the other. This would have been 
too much like the merchant, who, wishing to dispose 
of a quantity of Bibles, sent them out with a cargo of 
warming-pans, with strict orders that none should be 
allowed to have a warming-pan unless he bought a 
Bible also. 

In the second volume, Madame Guyon will be asso- 
ciated with the pious Lady Russell, with whom she 
was nearly cotemporary. 

The following volumes are in preparation: Anec- 
dotes of the Wives of Distinguished Men — The Em- 
ployments and Condition of Women in Various Ages 
and Nations, intended to show the Effects of Chris- 
tianity on their Character and Situation — Memoirs of 
Lady Fanshawe, of Madame Larochejaquelein, Prin- 
cess Laraballe, &c. 

In order that the authenticity of facts related in the 
Ladies' Family Library may be easily tested, a list 



of the books in which they may be found will be given 
at the end of each article. 

The volumes will be handsomely printed, each 
containing a good engraving. As the series will 
be numbered upon the outside, and not upon the 
title-page, purchasers can make such selections as 
they choose, and have them bound in whatever order 
they think proper. 



MADAME DE STAEL 



MADAME BE STAEL 



lime semblc voir en elle une de ces belles Grecques, qui enchantaient 
et subjuguaient le monde. Elle a plus de talents encore que d' amour 
propre ; mais des talents si rares doivent necessairement exciter le de- 
sir de les deveiopper ; et je ne sais pas quel theatre pent sufBre a cette 
activite d' imagination, a ce caractere ardent enfin qui se fait sentirdans 
toutes ses paroles. Co7-inne- 



In a gallery of celebrated women, the first place 
unquestionably belongs to Anne Marie Louise 
Germaine Necker, Baroness de Stael Holstein. 

She was the only child of James Necker, the 
famous financier, (a long time the popular idol in 
France), and of Susanna Curchod, the daughter of 
a poor Swiss clergyman, who in the sequestered vil- 
lage of Grassy bestowed upon her as thorough an 
education as fell to the lot of any woman in Eu- 
rope. 

Gibbon, the historian, visited the father of Mad- 
emoiselle Curchod, and became a captive to her 
charms. He tells the story in his own Memoirs, 
where he informs us that, ' she was learned with- 
out pedantry, lively in conversation, pure in senti- 
1 



2 MADAME DE STAEL. 

ment, and elegant in manners : her wit and beauty 
were the theme of universal applause.' 

Gibbon prospered in his suit ; but such an obscure 
connexion was not agreeable to his father, who 
threatened to disinherit him if he persisted in it. 
He obeyed the parental command, like a dutiful son 
and a very philosophical lover ; and the young lady, 
on her part, seems to have borne the separation with 
becoming resignation and cheerfulness. 

After her father's death, Mademoiselle Curchod 
taught a school in Geneva ; where she became ac- 
quainted with M. Necker, the gentleman whom 
she afterwards married. He was a native of Geneva, 
and at that time a banker in Paris. The large 
fortune, which he afterwards acquired, had its origin 
in the following circumstances. The Old East 
India Company, consisting principally of nobility, 
were ignorant of business, and trusted everything 
to the abilities and discretion of M. Necker. By 
loaning them money at the enormous interest they 
had been accustomed to pay, and by forming a 
lottery to relieve them from embarrassment, he ob- 
tained at once more than seventy thousand pounds ; 
and Vv'ith this capital he became one of the 
wealthiest bankers in Europe. 

Thus Madame Necker, united to a man of un- 
common talent and eloquence, herself rich in in- 
telligence and learning, and surrounded by all the 
facilities of affluence, passed at once from the 
monotonous seclusion of her early life to a situa- 
tion as dazzling as it was distinguished. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 3 

Their house was a favorite gathering-place for 
the fashionable and philosophical coteries of Paris, 
and foreigners of note always made it a point to 
be presented to Madame Necker. 

It has been said that her husband's rise as a 
politician was greatly owing to her literary assem- 
blies, which never failed to draw around them all 
the talented and influential men of the day. She 
wrote a book of Miscellanies, that obtained consid- 
erable reputation, especially in Germany. But all 
the honors paid to Monsieur and Madame Necker, 
however flattering at the time, were completely 
eclipsed in the glorious distinction of being the 
parents of Madame de Stael. 

This extraordinary being was born in Paris, in 
1766. In her infancy, she was noticed for a re- 
markable degree of brightness, gayety, and free- 
dom. M. de Bonstetten (the correspondent of 
Gray the poet) tells the following anecdote of her 
when five or six years old. Being on a visit to his 
friend, M. Necker, then residing at Coppet, his 
country-seat, about two leagues from Geneva, he 
was one day walking through the grounds, v/hen 
he was suddenly struck with a switch, from behind 
a tree ; turning round, he observed the little rogue 
laughing. She called out, ' Mamma wishes me to 
learn to use my left hand, and so I am trying.' 
Simond says, ' She stood in great awe of her moth 
er, but was very familiar with her father, of whom 
she was dotingly fond. One day, after dinner, as 
Madame Necker rose first and left the room, the 



4 MADAME DE STAEL. 

little girl, till then on good behaviour, all at once 
seizing her napkin, threw it across the table, in a 
fit of mad spirits, at her father's head ; then ran 
round to him, and hanging about his neck allow** 
ed him no time for reproof.' 

The caresses of her father, contrary to the more 
rigid views of Madame Necker, constantly encour- 
aged her childish prattle ; and the approbation she 
obtained perpetually excited her to new efforts 1 
even then, she replied to the continual pleasantries 
of her father with that mixture of vivacity and ten- 
derness, which afterward so delightfully character- 
ized her intercourse with him. Madame Necker 
de Saussure, her relation and intimate friend, speak- 
ing of her early maturity, says, ' It seems as if 
Madame de Stael had always been young, and 
never been a child. I have heard of only one 
trait, which bore the stamp of childhood ; and even 
in this there is an indication of talent. When a 
very little girl, she used to amuse herself by 
cutting paper kings and queens, and making 
them play a tragedy ; her mother being very rigid in 
her religious opinions, forbade a play which might 
foster a love of the theatre; and Marie would often 
hide herself to pursue her favorite occupation at 
leisure. Perhaps in this way she acquired the only 
peculiar habit she ever had, that of twisting a bit 
of paper, or a leaf, between her fingers.' 

Through her whole life, the idea of giving pleas- 
ure to her parents was a very strong motive with 
her. She gave a singular proof of this at ten 



\ MADAME DE STAEL. 5 

years of age. Seeing how much they both admir- 
ed M. Gibbon, the early lover, and afterward the 
cordial friend of Madame Necker, she imagined it 
was her duty to marry him, in order that they might 
constantly enjoy his agreeable conversation ; and 
she seriously proposed it to her mother. Those 
who have seen a full length profile of the corpulent 
historian will readily believe the child's imagination 
was not captivated with his figure. 

Madame Necker being anxious that her daughter 
should have a companion of her own age, invited 
Mademoiselle Huber, afterward Madame Rilliet ; 
the choice was decided by the intimacy of the fami- 
lies, and by the careful education of Mademoiselle 
Huber. This lady has written an account of their 
first interview, which will give an idea of the man- 
ners and habits of Mademoiselle Necker at eleven 
years old. At that time her father had just been 
appointed Comptroller General of the Finance of 
France. The friend of her youth, describing their 
introduction to each other, says, ' She talked to me 
with a warmth and facility, which was already elo- 
quence, and which made a great impression upon 
me. We did not play, like children. She imme- 
diately a^sked me about my lesson, whether I knew 
any foreign languages, and if I often went to the 
theatre. When I told her I had never been but 
three or four times, she exclaimed — and promised 
that we should often go together ; adding, that 
when we returned, we would, according to h^r 
usual habit, write down the subject of the dramas, 



6 MADAME DE STAEL. 

and what had particularly struck us. She likewise 
proposed that we should write together every morn- 
ing. 

' We entered the parlor. By the side of Madame 
Necker's chair was a footstool, on which her daugh* 
ter seated herself, being obliged to sit very upright. 
She had hardly taken her accustomed place, when 
two or three elderly persons gathered round her, 
and began to talk to her with the most affectionate 
interest. The Abbe Raynal held her hand in his a 
lonff time, and conversed with her as if she had been 
twentyfive years of age. The others around her 
were MM. Thomas, Marmontel, the Marquis de 
Pesay, and the Baron de Grimm. At table, how 
she listened ! She did not open her mouth, yet 
she seemed to talk in her turn, so much was spoken 
in the changing expression of her features. Her 
eyes followed the looks and movements of those 
who conversed, and one would have judged that 
she even anticipated their ideas. On every sub- 
ject she seemed at home ; even in politics, which 
at that period excited very great interest. After 
dinner, numerous visiters arrived. Every one, as 
they came up to Madame Necker, spoke to her 
daughter, indulging in some slight compliment, or 
pleasantry. She replied to everything with ease 
and gracefulness : they loved to amuse themselves 
by attacking her, and trying to embarrass her, in 
order to excite that little imagination, which already 
began to show its brilliancy. Men the most dis- 
tinguished for intellect were those who particularly 



MADAME DE STAEL. 7 

attached themselves to her. They asked her to 
give an account of what she had been reading, 
talked of the news, and gave her a taste for study 
by conversing about that which she had learned, 
or that of which she was ignorant.' 

In consequence of Madame Necker's system of 
education, her daughter, at the same time that she 
pursued a course of severe study, was constantly 
accustomed to conversation beyond her years. The 
world must have somewhat softened the severity of 
Madame Necker's opinions : for we find that she of- 
ten allowed her daughter to assist at the represen- 
tation of the best dramatic p'eces. Her pleasures, 
as well as her duties, were exercises of intellect ; 
and nature, which had originally bestowed great 
gifts, was assisted by every possible method. In 
this way her vigorous faculties acquired a prodi- 
gious growth. 

At this period of her life, we find the following 
account of her in the Memoir of Baron de Grimm. 

' While M. Necker passes decrees which cover 
him with glory, and will render his administration 
eternally dear to France ; while Madame Necker 
renounces all the sweets of society to devote her- 
self to the establishment of a Hospital of Charity, 
in the parish of St Sulpicius, their daughter, a 
girl of twelve years old, who already evinces talents 
above her age, amuses herself with writing little 
comedies, after the manner of the semi-dramas of 
M. de St Mark. She has just completed one, in 
two acts, entitled the " Inconvejiiences of the life 



8 MADAME DE STAEL. 

led at Paris," which is not only astonishing for her 
age, but appears even very superior to her models. 
It represents a mother who had two daughters, one 
brought up in all the simplicity of rural life, and 
the other amid the grand airs of the capital. The 
latter is the favorite, from the talents and graces 
she displays ; but this mother, falling into misfor- 
tunes, from the loss of a law-suit, soon learns which 
of the two is in reality most deserving of her affec- 
tion. The scenes of this little drama are well con- 
nected together, the characters are well supported, 
and the development of the intrigue is natural and 
full of interest. M. Marmontel, \\ ho saw it perform- 
ed in the drawing-room at St Ouen, the country- 
house of M. Necker, by the author and some of 
her young companions, was affected by it even to 
tears.' 

In 1781, when her father published his Compte 
Rendu, Mademoiselle Necker wrote him a very re- 
markable anonymous letter, which he immediately 
recognised by the style. 

From her earliest youth she evinced a decided 
taste for composition. Her first attempts were por- 
traits and eulogiums, a style of writing which was 
then extremely popular in France, under the in- 
fluence of Thomas, the friend of Madame Necker, 
At the age of fifteen, she made extracts from the 
Spirit of tlie Laws ; accompanied by her own re- 
flections ; and at that time the Abbe Raynal wish- 
ed her to furnish, for his great work, an article on 
the Jlevocation of the Edict of Nantes^ 
, Her father was naturally averse to female au« 



MADAME DE STAEL. 9 

thors, and nothing but her very decided excellence 
could have induced him to pardon her love of wri- 
ting. 

The sensibilities of her heart seem to have been 
as early and as fully developed as the energies of 
her mind. In 1781 her father removed from office 
amid the universal lamentations of the people, and 
retired to his residence in Switzerland. Paul of 
Russia and his princess were then travelling through 
Europe, under the title of Count and Countess du 
Nord. The royal pair visited M. Necker, at Coppet, 
and expressed their respect and esteem in terms so 
flattering, that Mademoiselle Necker burst into 
tears. 

The same warmth and susceptibility of character 
was shown in her ardent attachment for Mademoi- 
selle Huber ; and indeed we find proofs of it at 
every period of her life. 

The deep feeling and sombre richness spread 
over all her writings, was early manifested in her 
literary taste : 'That which interested her,' says 
Madame Rilliet, ' was always that which made 
her weep.' 

The health of Mademoiselle Necker could not 
endure the high pressure of excitement so constant- 
ly applied to her intellectual faculties. Before she ^ 
was fifteen years old, the physicians were obliged ^^ 
to order complete seclusion, and total abandonment 
of study. This was a subject of great regret to 
Madame Necker. She had indulged an unbound- 
ed ambition for her daughter ; and, according to 



10 MADAME DE STAEL. 

her ideas, to give up great learning was to renounce 
all hopes of distinction. Having obtained exten- 
sive erudition by her own patient habits of mental 
labor, she thought every body could study as in- 
tensely and methodically as she had done. ' With 
her, everything was a study. She studied society, 
individuals, the art of writing, the art of talking — 
she even studied herself: all was reduced to a sys- 
tem, and details were elevated to great importance/ 

Her feelings, as well as her mind, were kept in 
rigid subjection to propriety and method ; and hav- 
ing obtained much by effort, she exacted much from 
others. Her husband once said of her, ' Madame 
Necker would be perfectly amiable, if she only had 
something to forgive in herself.' 

Such a character pre-supposes very little facility 
in varying her plans : when she found her daugh- 
ter's constitution could not sustain the rigid system 
she had marked out for her, she gave the work 
of education entirely into the hands of her husband. 

The freedom of spirit thus granted to Mademoi- 
selle Necker was probably the reason her genius 
afterward took so bold a flight. 

A life all poetry succeeded to her previous habits 
of study and restraint. Everything conspired to 
give abundant nourishment to her active imagina- 
tion. She had nothing to do but to run about the 
woods of St Ouen, with her young friend, Mad- 
emoiselle Huber. The two girls, dressed as nymphs, 
or as muses, declaimed poetry, made verses, and 
wrote dramas, which they themselves represented. 



, MADAME DE STAEL. 11 

The power of profiting by her father's leisure 
was a great advantage to her at this period of her 
life. She never neglected an opportunity of being 
with him ; and his conversation was always her 
highest enjoyment. M. Necker was every day 
more struck with her wonderful intelligence ; and 
never did it show itself in such charming forms as 
when with him. She soon perceived that he had 
need of relaxation and amusement ; and in the 
gayety of an affectionate heart she tried a thousand 
ways to make him smile. Her father was never 
prodigal of his approbation ; his looks were ever 
more flattering than his words. He found it more 
necessary, as well as more amusing, to notice her 
faults than her merits. No incipient imperfection 
escaped his raillery ; the slightest tendency to pre- 
tension, or exaggeration was promptly checked. 
In after life, she often used to say, ' I owe the 
frankness of my manners, and the ingenuousness 
of my character, entirely to my father's penetra- 
tion. He used to unmask all my little affectations ; 
and I acquired the habit of believing that he could 
see into my inmost heart.' 

As might be expected, the extreme vivacity of 
Mademoiselle Necker was continually betraying 
her into sins against her mother's ideas of order 
and decorum. On this subject, she made a thou- 
sand good resolutions, but was always sure to forget 
them the moment she needed them. She could 
not restrain her exuberant fancy and overflowing 
spirits. Her soul was a full, bright stream, forever 



12 M A D A M E D E S T A E L . 

deluging its banks, and rushing and bubbling over 
all impediments. 

Sometimes, with the intention of being very pro- 
per, she would sit demurely behind her father, at 
a distance from the company, that she might not 
interrupt conversation : but presently one intelli- 
gent man would be withdrawn from the circle, then 
another, then another, unt 1 a noisy group was 
formed around her : M. Necker smiled, involunta- 
rily, as her lively conversation met his ear, and the 
original subject of discussion was entirely deranged. 

The perfect friendship ajid boundless sympathy 
existing between Mademoiselle Necker and her 
father was not entirely agreeable to Madame Neck- 
er : she was slightly jealous of losing the first 
place in her husband's aifections. Had her highly- 
gifted daughter excelled in such qualities as be- 
longed to her own character, she would have been 
associated with all her attractions, and success 
would naturally ''have been attributed to her judi- 
cious care ; but the fact was, her daughter pleased 
by qualities exactly opposed to her own, and her 
success in society originated in a course of educa- 
tion directly contrary to her views. 

Mademoiselle Necker's character was, in many 
points, different from her father's, and decidedly 
marked by a higher ordei of genius ; but in the 
quickness of her perceptions and the promptitude 
of her wit, she resembled him much more than she 
did her mother.* We must therefore forgive the 

* M. Necker, though no one could have guessed it from 



' M ADA ME DE STA tL. 13 

workings of human nature in Madame Necker, if 
she could not always conceal her impatience when 
she saw her husband giving himself up so unreserv- 
edly to the enjoyment of a mind alike without a 
model, or an equal. When Madame Saussure ex- 
pressed surprise at the prodigious distinction of 
Mademoiselle Necker, her mother replied, ' It is 
nothing, absolutely nothing at all, to what I would 
have made her.' 

Through her whole life Madame de Stael was 
characterized by candor and amiability ; and 
these qualities never showed themselves more plain- 
ly than when reproved by her mother. Perhaps 
she gave too open and decided a preference to her 
more indulgent parent ; but she always cherished a 
profound veneration for Madame Necker. Though 
she had, from her earliest childhood, indulged in 
habits of quick and lively repartee, she was never 
known, in her most careless moments, to speak a 
disrespectful word of her mother. 

Madame Necker had two different kinds of in- 
fluence upon the character and destiny of her illus- 
trious daughter ; both of which tended to produce 
the same remarkable result. 

She transmitted to her ardent affections, a strong 
capacity for deep impressions, great enthusiasm for 

his writings, was full of humor, and apt to see things in a 
ludicrous point of view. He was rather silent, but made 
sly remarks and sharp repartees. He wrote several witty 
plays ; but thinking it beneath the dignity of a minister of 
State to publish them, he burnt them. — Simond. 



14 MADAME DE STAEL. 

the grand and beautiful, and an ambition for wit, 
talent, learning, and all kinds of distinction ; but 
the rigid restraint she imposed upon her in early 
life, instead of inducing her own habits of strict 
discipline and self-control, produced a violent reac- 
tion. Madame Necker thought everything of de- 
tail and method ; and the exaggerated importance 
she attached to them was probably the reason that 
her dauD-hter thouc^ht nothincr of them. In Madame 

O ~ ~ 

Necker's mind all was acquired and arranged ; in 
her daughter's all was freshness and creation. To 
one the world was a lesson to be studied ; to the 
other it was full of theories to be invented. The 
mother's admiration was exclusively given to habits 
and principles acquired with care, and maintained 
with watchfulness ; while the daughter's warmest 
sympathies were bestowed upon generous impulses, 
and natural goodness of heart. 

In after years, when death had taken from Mad- 
ame de Stael the friend of her infancy, and when 
sad experience had somewhat tamed the romance 
it could not destroy, she appi^- ' *ed her mother's 
well-balanced character more h.-nly. ' The more 
I see of life,' she once said to Madame Saussure, 
' the better do I understand my mother; and the ' 
more does my heart feel the need of her.' 

Mademoiselle Necker resided at Coppet from 
1781 to 1787, when her father was restored to of- 
fice, and his family accompanied him to Paris, 

During her stay in Switzerland she wrote a sen- 
timental comedy, called ' Sophia, or Secret Senti- 



MADAME DE STAEL. 15 

ments/ founded on a story of ill-directed and un- 
happy love ; published when she was twentyone 
years of age. 

Immediately after she came to Paris, she finished 
her tragedy of Lady Jane Grey, which has had 
considerable reputation. Soon after, she wrote, 
but never published, another tragedy, called Mont- 
morency, in which the part of Cardinal de Riche- 
lieu is said to have been sketched with great 
spirit. These early productions had prominent de- 
fects, as well as beauties. They were marked by 
that perfect harmony between thought and expres- 
sion which always constituted her most delightful 
peculiarity, in conversation or writing ; but her 
friends considered them valuable principally on 
account of the promise they gave of future great- 
ness. To the world they are objects of curiosity, 
as the first records in the history of an extraordinary 
mind. 

Her dramas were written in verse ; but she nev- 
er after attempted poetry, except some slight efibrt 
for amusement, ^j^ vigorous and rapid mind was 
a little impatient binder the trammels of French 
versification. In prose, she was not compelled to 
sacrifice originality and freedom ; and in throw- 
ing away her fetters she lost nothing but rh}'me, 
for her soul poured into prose all its wealth of 
poetry. 

Before her twentieth year, she v/rote the three 
Tales, which were not published till 1795, nearly 
ten years after. She herself attached very little 



16 MADAME DE STAEL. 

value to these light productions. A treatise on the 
various forms of fiction, in relation to progressive 
degrees of civilization, is introduced as a Preface- 
Mademoiselle Necker's eloquent and fascinating 
style of conversation gave a vivid interest to the 
earliest productions of her pen. No one heard 
her talk without being eager to read what she had 
written. The portraits and impromptu sketches, 
which she made for the amusement of her friends, 
were handed about in parties, and sought for with 
avidity : even in these were discovered her charac- 
teristic acuteness of thought, and the harmonious 
flow of her animated style. Something of the atten- 
tion paid her at this time may no doubt be attribu- 
ted to her father's popularity and political influence. 
If she had attracted much notice in Switzer- 
land, before her mind had attained the fulness of 
its majestic stature, it will readily be believed that 
she excited an unusual sensation when she appear- 
ed in the brilliant circles of Paris. Her hands 
and arms were finely formed, and of a most trans- 
parent whiteness. She sel{^m covered them — 
confessing, with the child-like Irtinkness which gave 
such an endearing charm to her powerful charac- 
ter, that she was resolved to make the most of the 
only personal beauty nature had given her.* True, 

*Her feet are said to have been clumsy. This circumstance 
gave rise to a pun, which annoyed her a little. On some occa- 
sion she represented a statue, the face of which was concealed. 
A gentleman being asked to gtiess who the statue was, glanc* 
ed at the block of marble on which she stood, and answered 
* Je vols le pied de Sta&l,' (lepiddestal.) 



MADAME DE STAEL. 17 

she had none of the usual pretensions to be called 
a handsome woman ; but there was an intellectual 
splendor about her face that arrested and rivetted 
attention. ' No expression was permanent ; for 
her whole soul was in her countenance, and it took 
the character of every passing emotion. When in 
perfect repose, her long eye-lashes gave something 
of heaviness and languor to her usually animated 
physiognomy ; but when excited, her magnificent 
dark eyes flashed with genius, and seemed to an- 
nounce her ideas before she could utter them, as 
lightning precedes the thunder. There was noth- 
incr of restlessness in her features ; there was even 
something of indolence ; but her vigorous form, 
her animated gestures, her graceful and strongly 
marked attitudes, gave a singular degree of direct- 
ness and energy to her discourse. There was 
something drama{ic about her, even in dress, v/hich, 
v/hile it was altoo;ether free from ridiculous exag- 
geration, never failed to convey an idea of some- 
thing more picturesque than the reigning fashion. 
When she first entered a room, she walked with a 
slow and grave step. A slight degree of timidity 
made it necessary for her to collect her faculties 
when she was about to attract the notice of a party. 
This cloud of embarrassment did not at first permit 
her to distinguish anything ; but her face lighted up 
in proportion to the friends she recognised.' 

' The kindness and generosity of her disposition 
led her to mark the merits of others strongly on 
2 



18 MADAME DE STAEL. 

her memory ; as she talked, she always seemed to 
have present to her thoughts the best actions and 
qualities of each one with whom she conversed. 
Her compliments partook of the sincerity of the 
heart from which they came. She praised without 
flattering. She used to say '* politeness was only 
the art of choosing among our thoughts." ' — She 
possessed this art in an eminent degree. There 
never was a more shrewd observer of human na- 
ture, or one who better knew how to adapt herself 
to every variety of character. Sir John Sinclair, 
a celebrated Scotchman, mentions a circumstance 
which shows the kind of tact she possessed. When 
he visited her father's house, he found her seated 
at the instrument, singing that plaintive Highland 
air, so popular with his countrymen, * Maybe we 
return to Lochabar no more.' 

The following highly-colored portrait of her, 
though full of French enthusiasm, can hardly give 
us an exaggerated idea of the homage she received. 
It was written by a gentleman, one of her literary 
friends. 

* She is the most celebrated priestess of Apollo ; 
the favorite of the god. The incense she offers is 
the most agreeable, and her hymns are the most 
dear. Her words, when she wishes, make the dei- 
ties descend to adorn his temple, and to mingle 
among mortals. From the midst of the sacred 
priestesses there suddenly advances one — my heart 
always recognises her. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 19 

' Her large dark eyes sparkle with genius ; her 
hair, black as ebony, falls in waving ringlets on her 
shoulders ; her features are more strongly marked 
than delicate, — one reads in them something 
above the destiny of her sex. 

* Thus would we paint the muse of poetry, or 
Clio, or Melpomene. " See her ! See her !" they 
exclaim, wherever she appears ; and we hold our 
breath as she approaches. 

* I had before seen the Pythia of Delphi, and the 
Sybil of Cumse ; but they were wild ; their gestures 
had a convulsive air ; they seemed less filled with 
the presence of the god than devoured by the Fu- 
ries. The young priestess is animated without ex- 
cess, and inspired without intoxication. Her charm 
is freedom ; all her supernatural gifts seem to be a 
part of herself. 

* She took her lyre of gold and ivory, and began 
to sing the praises of Apollo. The music and the 
words were not prepared. In the celestial poetic 
fire that kindled in her face, and in the profound 
attention of the people, you could see that her ima- 
gination created the song ; and our ears, at once 
astonished and delighted, knew not which to ad- 
mire most, the facility, or the perfection. 

* A short time after, she laid aside her lyre, and 
talked of the great truths of nature, — of the im- 
mortality of the soul, of the love of liberty, of the 
charm and the danger of the passions. To hear 
her, one would have said there was the experience 
of many souls mingled into one : seeing her youth, 



20 ' MADAME DE STAEL. 

we were ready to ask how she had been able thus 
to anticipate life, and to exist before she was born. 
I have looked and listened with transport. I have 
discovered in her features a charm superior to 
beauty. What an endless play of variety in the ex- 
pression of her countenance ! What inflexions in 
the sound of her voice ! What a perfect corres- 
pondence between the thought and the expression ! 
She speaks — and, if I do not hear her words, 
her tones, her gestures, and her looks convey to 
me her meaning. She pauses — her last words 
resound in my heart, and I read in her eyes what 
she is yet about to say. She is silent — and the 
temple resounds with applause ; she bows her head 
in modesty ; her long eye-lashes fall over her eyes 
of fire ; and the sun is veiled from our sight !' 

Such was Madame de Stael in the lustre of her 
youth — advancing with joy and confidence into a 
life, which promised nothing but happiness. She 
was herself too kind to admit any forebodings of 
hatred, and too great an admirer of genius in others 
to suspect that it could be envied. But alas ! 
though 

' Some flowers of Eden we still may inherit, 
The trail of the serpent is over them all.' 

Such remarkable and obvious superiority could 
not be cheerfully tolerated by the narrow-minded 
and the selfish. Mademoiselle Necker might have 
been forgiven for being the richest heiress in the 
kingdom ; but they could not pardon the fascina- 



MADAME DE STAEL. 21 

tion of talent, thus eclipsing beauty, and overshad- 
owing rank. The power of intellect is borne with 
less patience than the tyranny of wealth ; for gen- 
ius cannot, like money, be loaned at six per cent. 

Accordingly we find an extreme willingness to 
repeat anything to the disadvantage of Mademoi- 
selle Necker. Anecdotes were busily circulated 
about her early awkwardness, her untameable gay- 
ety, the blunders that originated in her defect of 
sight, and, more than all, the mistakes into which 
she had been led by her warm unsuspecting temper, 
and the tricks that had been practised upon her in 
consequence of the discovery of her foibles. — 
' Envy, party-spirit, the strong temptation to be witty 
at the expense of such a person, have multiplied ill- 
natured stories, eagerly repeated even by those who 
courted her society, and whom she believed to be 
her friends ; thus giving, without intending it, the 
measure of their own inferiority, by the exclusive 
notice they took of such peculiarities of character 
as happened to be nearest their own level.'* Neg- 
lecting to make a courtesy, and having a little piece 
of trimming ripped from her dress, when she was 
presented at court after her marriage, — and her 
having left her cap in the carriage, when she visit- 
ed Madame de Polignac, furnished subjects of 
amusement for all Paris ! 

But she herself recounted her own blunders with 
such infinite grace and good-humor, that there was 
no withstanding her. Bad indeed must have been 

* Simond. 



22 MADAME DE STAEL. 

the temper that could long resist the winning in- 
fluence of her amiable manners . ' When she ap- 
peared the most eagerly engaged in conversation, 
she could always detect her adversaries at a glance, 
and was sure to captivate or disarm them as the 
conversation proceeded. She had a singular de- 
gree of tact in guessing what reply to make to re- 
proaches that had not been expressed. She never al- 
lowed herself to be tedious, and she never indulged 
in asperity. If a dispute threatened to. be serious, 
she gave it a playful turn, and by one happy word 
restored harmony. Tn fact no one would have been 
encouraged in an attempt to disconcert or vex her ; 
for as she deeply interested while she amused her 
hearers, they would have cordially joined against 
the aggressor ; and could any one have succeeded 
in silencing her eloquence, he would have despair- 
ed of being able to supply her place.' 

M. Necker's wealth, and his daughter's extraor- 
dinary powers of pleasing, soon attracted suitors. 
Her parents were extremely ambitious for her ; and 
the choice was not decided without difficulty ; for 
she insisted upon not being obliged to leave France, 
and her mother made it a point that she should 
not marry a Catholic. We are told that she refus- 
ed several distinguished men. Sir John Sinclair, 
in his Correspondence, speaks of a projected union 
between the son of Lord Rivers and Mademoiselle 
Necker, and regrets that it did not take place, as it 
would have withdrawn her family from the vortex 
of French politics ; but I find no allusion elsewhere 



MADAME DE STAEL. 23 

to this English marriage, and Sir John does not in- 
form us upon what authority his remark is founded. 
In her works, Madame deStael constantly express- 
es great admiration of England, and she chose to 
give her Corinna an English lover. Whether this 
taste, so singular in a French- woman, had any- 
thing to do with her early recollections, I know 
not. 

Her fate was at last decided by Eric-Magnus, 
Baron de Stael Holstein, a Swedish nobleman, sec- 
retary to the ambassador from the court of Stock- 
holm. He is said to have had an amiable disposi- 
tion, a fine person, and courtly manners | bat we 
are not told that in point of intellect he possessed 
any distinguished claims to the hand of Mademoi- 
selle Necker. Like a good many personages in 
history, he seems to have accidentally fallen upon 
greatness by pleasing the fancies of his superiors, 
or coming in contact with their policy. He was a 
favorite with Marie Antoinette, who constantly ad- 
vanced his interests by her patronage ; he was like- 
wise the bosom friend of Count Fersen, who at 
that time had great influence at court. 

The queen warmly urged his suit ; Gustavus IH. 
willing to please Marie Antoinette, and to secure 
such a large fortune to one of his subjects, 
recalled the Swedish ambassador, and appointed 
the Baron de Stael in his place, promising that 
he should enjoy that high rank for many years; 
and the lover himself, in order to remove the scru- 
ples the young lady had with regard to marrying a 



V 



24 MADAME DE STAEL. 

foreigner, pledged his honor that she should never 
be urged to quit France. 

Sir John Sinclair tells us that M. Necker was 
supposed to favor the match in hopes of being 
restored to office through the influence of the 
dueen and Count Fersen ; but such a motive is 
not at all consistent with the character Madame 
de Stael has given of her father, who she says, 
* in every circumstance of his life preferred the least 
of his duties to the most important of his interests.^ 

She herself probably imagined the connexion 
might be of use to her beloved parents ; and her am- 
bition might have been tempted by her lover's rank 
as a nobleman and ambassador ; at least it is difficult 
to account in any other manner for her union witb a 
foreigner considerably older than herself, and with 
whom she had few points of sympathy in character, 
or pursuits ; it was a notorious fact that she was 
never over-fond of the match, and entered into the 
necessary arrangements with great coldness. 

She was married to the Baron de Stael in 1786, 
and the bridegroom received, on his wedding-day, 
eighty thousand pounds as her dowry. 

This union, like most marriages of policy, was 
far from being a happy one. Had Madame de 
Stael been a heartless, selfish character, such a des» 
tiny would have been good enough ; but they were 
indeed cruel, who assisted in imposing such icy 
fetters on a soul so ardent, generous, and affection- 
ate as hers. Nature, as usual, rebelled against 
the tyranny of ambition. We are told by her friends^, 



MADAME DE STAEL.' 25 

and indeed there is internal evidence in most of 
her works, that her life was one long sigh for do- 
mestic love. 

When she became a mother, she used playfully 
to say, ' I will ybrce my daughter to make a mar- 
riage of inclination.' 

The impetuosity of an unsatisfied spirit gave a 
singular degree of vehemence to all her attach- 
ments ; her gratitude and friendship took the color- 
ing of ardent love. She was extremely sensitive 
where her heart was concerned ; and at the slight- 
est neglect, real or imaginary, from her friends, 
she would exclaim with bitter emphasis, * Never, 
never have I been loved as I love others !' 

When she was the most carried away by the ex- 
citement of society, and the impetuous inspiration 
of her own spirit, it was impossible for a friend to 
glide away unperceived by her. This watchful 
anxiety was the source of frequent reproaches ; she 
was forever accusing her friends of a diminution in 
their love. Madame de Saussure once said to her, 
* Your friends ' have to submit each morning to re- 
newed charges of coldness and neglect.' ' What 
matter for that,' she replied, 'if I love them the 
better every evening V She used to say, ' I would 
go to the scaffold, in order to try the friendship of 
those who accom.panied me.' 

Yet with all her extreme susceptibility of tender- 
ness and admiration, she was not blind to the slight- 
est defects. With her, character always passed 
under a close and rigorous examination ; and if 



26 MADAME DE STAEL. 

she sometimes wounded the vanity of her friends 
by being too clear-sighted to their imperfections, 
they were soothed by her enthusiastic admiration 
of all their great and good qualities. Indeed she 
might well be forgiven by others, since her acute 
powers of analysis were directed against her own 
character with the most unsparing severity. 

The winter after Madame de Stael's marriage, 
her father was exiled forty leagues from Paris, and 
she was with him during the greater part of his 
absence. In the August following, 1788, he was 
recalled with added honors, and his daughter, of 
course, became one of the most important person- 
ages in France. But while she formed the centre 
of attraction in the fashionable and intellectual 
society of Paris, she did not relinquish her taste 
for literature. In 1789, she published her famous 
Letters on the Character and Writings of J. J. 
Rousseau. The judicious will not approve of all 
the opinions expressed in this book ; and perhaps 
she herself would have viewed things differently 
when riper years and maturer judgment had some- 
what subdued the artificial glare, which youth and 
romance are so apt to throw over wrong actions 
and false theories. ' It is, however, a glowing and 
eloquent tribute to the genius of that extraordinary 
man ; and the acuteness shown in her remarks on 
the Emilius, and the Treatise on the Social Con- 
tract, is truly wonderful in a young woman so 
much engrossed by the glittering distractions of 
fashionable life.' 



MADAME DE STAEL. 27 

At first only a few copies were printed for her 
intimate friends ; but a full edition was soon pub- 
lished without her consent. The Baron de Grimm, 
who saw one of the private copies, speaks of it with 
great admiration as one of the most remarkable 
productions of the time. 

Before the year expired we find her involved in 
anxiety and trouble occasioned by the second exile 
of her father. His dismission from office excited 
great clamor among the populace, who regarded 
him as the friend of liberty and the people. This 
feeling was openly expressed by closing the thea- 
tres, as for some great national calamity. The 
consequence was an almost immediate recall : and 
Madame de Stael warmly exulted in the triumph 
of a parent, whom she seems to have regarded with 
a feeling little short of idolatry. 

^ From the moment of his return, in July, 1789, to 
the period of his final fall from power, in Septem- 
ber, 1790, M. Necker was all powerful in France ; 
and Madame de Stael, of course, was a person of 
proportional consequence in the literary, philosophi- 
cal, and political society about the court, and in 
those more troubled circles from which the Revo- 
lution was lust besinnino; to s.o forth in its most 
alarming forms. Her situation enabled her to see 
the sources, however secret, of all the movements 
that were then agitating the very foundations of 
civil order in France ; and she had talent to under- 
stand them with great clearness and truth. She 
witnessed the violent removal of the kinar to Paris 



28 MADAME DE STAEL. 

on the 6th of October ; she was present at the first 
meeting of the National Convention, and heard 
Mirabeau and Barnave ; she followed the proces- 
sion to Notre Dame, to hear Louis XVI. swear to 
a constitution, which virtually dethroned him ; 
and from that period, her mind seems to have re- 
ceived a political tendency, that it never afterward 
lost. 

' In 1790, she passed a short time with her father 
at Coppet, but soon returned to Paris. 

' She associated, on terms of intimacy, with Tal- 
leyrand, for whom she wrote the most important 
part of his Report on Public Instruction, in 1790. 
She likewise numbered among her friends. La Fay- 
ette, Narbonne, Sieyes, and other popular leaders.' 

When, amid the universal consternation, there 
could be no one found to shelter the proscribed vic- 
tims of the despotic mob, Madame de Stael had the 
courage to offer some of them an asylum, hoping 
the residence of a foreign ambassador would not 
be searched. She shut them up in the remotest 
chamber, and herself spent the night in watching 
the streets. 

M. de Narbonne was concealed in her house, 
when the officers of police came to make the much 
dreaded ' domiciliary visit.' She knew that he 
could not escape, if a rigorous search were made, 
and that if taken, he would be beheaded that ve'ry 
day. She had sufficient presence of mind to keep 
quite calm. Partly by her eloquence, and partly by 
a familiar pleasantry, which flattered them, she 



MADAME DE STAEL. 29 

persuaded the men to go away without infringing 
upon the rights of a foreign ambassador. 

Dr Bollman, the same generous Hanoverian 
who afterward attempted to rescue La Fayette from 
the prison of Olmutz, offered to undertake the dan- 
gerous business of conveying Narbonne to Eng- 
land ; and he effected it in safety by means of a 
passport belonging to one of his friends. 

As Sweden refused to acknowledge the French 
Republic, the situation of the Baron de Stael be- 
came very uncomfortable at Paris ; and he was re- 
called in 1792, a short time before the death of 
Gustavus III, In September, 1792, Madame de 
Stael set out for Switzerland, in a coach and six, 
with servants in full livery ; she was induced to do 
this, from the idea that the people would let her 
depart more freely, if they saw her in the style of 
an ambassadress. This was ill-judged ; a shabby 
post-chaise would have conveyed her more safely. 
A ferocious crowd stopped the horses, calling out 
loudly that she was carrying away the gold of the na- 
tion. A gen-d^arme conducted her through half 
Paris to the Hotel de Ville, on the staircase of which 
several persons had been massacred. No woman 
had at that time perished ; but the next day the 
Princess Lamballe was murdered by the populace. 
Madame de Stael was three hours in making her 
way through the crowds that on all sides assailed 
her with cries of death. They had nothing against 
her personally, and probably did not know who she 
was ; but a carriage and liveries, in their eyes, war- 



30 MADAME DE STAEL. 

ranted sentence of execution. She was then preg- 
nant ; and a gen-d^arme who was placed in the 
coach, was moved with compassion at her situa- 
tion and excessive terror ; he promised to defend 
her at the peril of his life. She says, ' I alighted 
from my carriage, in the midst of an armed multi- 
tude, and proceeded under an arch of pikes. In 
ascending the staircase, which was likewise brist- 
led with spears, a man pointed toward me the one 
which he held in his hand ; but my gen-d'arme 
pushed it away with his sabre. The President of 
the Commune was Robespierre ; and I breathed 
again, because I had escaped from the populace ; 
yet what a protector was Robespierre ! His sec- 
retary had left his beard untouched for a fortnight, 
that he might escape all suspicion of aristocracy. 
I showed my passports, and stated the right I had 
to depart as ambassadress of Sweden. Luckily, 
for me, Manuel arrived ; he was a man of good 
feelings, though he was hurried away by his pas- 
sions. In an interview, a few days before, I had 
wrought upon his kind disposition so that he con- 
sented to save two victims of proscription. He 
immediately offered to become responsible for me ; 
and conducting me out of that terrible place, he 
locked me up with my maid servant in his closet. 
Here we waited six hours, half dead with hunger 
and fright. The window of the apartment looked 
on the Place de Greve, and we saw the assassins 
returning from the prisons, with their arms bare 
and bloody, and uttering horrible cries. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 31 

* My coach with its baggage had remained in the 
middle of the square. I saw a tall man in the 
dress of a national guard, who for two hours de- 
fended it from the plunder of the populace ; I won- 
dered how he could think of such trifling things 
amid such awful circumstances. In the evening, 
this man entered my room with Manuel. He was 
Santerre, the brewer, afterward so notorious for his 
cruelty. He had several times witnessed my fa- 
therms distribution of corn among the poor of the 
Fauyhourg St Antoine, and was willing to show his 
gratitude, 

* Manuel bitterly deplored the assassinations that 
were going on, and which he had not power to 
prevent. An abyss was opened behind the steps of 
every man who had acquired any authority, and if 
he receded he must fall into it. He conducted me 
home at night in his carriage ; being afraid of losing 
his popularity by doing it in the day. The lamps 
were not lighted in the streets, and we met men 
with torches, the glare of which was more frightful 
than the darkness. Manuel was often stopped and 
asked who he was, but when he answered Le Pro- 
cur eur de la Commune, this Revolutionary dignity 
was respectfully recognised.' 

, A new passport was given Madame de Stael, and 
she was allowed to depart with one maid-servant, 
and a gen-cVarme to attend her to the frontier. Af- 
ter some difficulties of a less alarming nature, she 
arrived at Coppet in safety. 

During the following year, her feelings were too 



33 MADAME DE STAEL. 

painfully engrossed in watching the approaching . 
political crisis, to admit of her making any new 
literary exertion. 

She and her father having always strongly advo- 
cated a constitutional form of government, felt 
identified with the cause of rational freedom, and 
watched the ruin of the hopes they had formed with 
sad earnestness and bitter regret. 

They have been frequently accused by their po- 
litical enemies of having excited and encouraged 
the horrible disorders of the Revolution ; indeed 
the rancor of party-spirit went so far as to accuse 
Madame de Stael, — the glorious, the amiable Ma- 
dame de Stael ! -^ of having been among the brutal 
mob at Versailles, disguised as a Poissarcle. Noth- 
ing could in fact be more untrue than charges of 
this description. Zealous friends of the equal rights 
of man, M. Necker and his sagacious daughter saw 
plainly that a change was needed in the French 
government, and no doubt they touched the springs, 
which set the great machine in motion ; but they 
could not foresee its frightful accumulation of 
power, or the ruinous work to which it would be 
directed. The limited monarchy of England was 
always a favorite model with Madame de Stael. 
In her conversation, and in her writings, she has 
declared that the French people needed such a 
form of government, and, sooner or later, they would 
have it. 

Had the character of Louis XVI. been adapted 



MADAME DE STAEL. 33 

to the crisis in which he lived, her wishes might have 
been realized ; but she evinced her usual penetra- 
tion when she said of that monarch, '"He would 
have made the mildest of despots, or the most con- 
stitutional of kings ; but he was totally unfit for the 
period when public opinion was making a transition 
from one to the other.' To save the royal family 
from untimely death was the object of Madame de 
Stael's unceasing prayers and efforts. Having been 
defeated in a plan to effect their escape from France, 
we find her during this agitating period, silently 
awaitmg the progress of events, which she dared 
not attempt to control ; but when Marie Antoinette 
was condemned to be beheaded, she could no 
longer restrain her agonized spirit. In August, 
1793, heedless of the dancrer she incurred, she 
boldly published Reflections on the Process against 
the Q,ueen. ' A short but most eloquent appeal to 
the French nation, beseeching them to pause and 
reflect before they should thus disgrace themselves 
with the world, and w^ith posterity.' History informs 
us how entirely this and all other disinterested efforts 
failed to check the fury of the populace. The 
Revolution rushed madly on in its infernal course 
of blood and crime. 

With the death of Gustavus III. there came a 
change of politics in Sweden. The Baron de Stael 
was again sent to Paris, the only ambassador fi*om 
a monarchy to the new republic. Most of his old 
friends were proscribed, or imprisoned, and many 
3 



34 MADAME DE STAEL. 

of them had perished on the scaffold ; even the 
family of his wife did not dare to reside in France. 
To secure popularity in his precarious situation, he 
gave three thousand francs to the poor of La Croix 
Rouge, a section particularly distinguished for its 
republicanism. He could not, however, feel secure 
amid the frightful scenes that were passing around 
him ; and he soon hastened back to Sweden, where 
he remained until after the death of Robespierre, 
^ For a short time, during those dreadful months, 
which have been so appropriately termed the Reign 
of Terror, Madame de Stael was in England ; 
and, what is remarkable, she was in England, 
poor ; for the situation of the two countries at 
that crisis prevented her receiving the funds ne- 
cessary for her support. She lived in great re- 
tirement at Richmond, with two of her country- 
men no less distinguished than Narbonne and 
Talleyrand, both, like herself, anxiously watch- 
ing the progress of affairs in France and hoping for 
some change that would render it safe for them to 
return. It is a curious item in the fickle cruelty 
of the Revolution, that these three persons, who 
during such a considerable portion of their lives, 
exercised an influence, not only on their country, 
but on the world, w^ere now deprived of their 
accustomed means af subsistence ; and it is wor- 
thy of notice, as a trait in their national cha- 
racter, that they were not depressed or discouraged 
by it. 
'All they had, when thrown into the common stock. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 35 

was merely sufficient to purchase a kind of carriage, 
which would hold but two. As they rode about to 
see the country, Narbonne and Talleyrand alter- 
nately mounted as footmen behind, breaking out 
the glass of the chaise, in order to carry on a con- 
versation with those inside. Madame de Stael has 
often said that in these conversations she has wit- 
nessed and enjoyed more of the play of the highest 
order of talent than at any other period of her life. 
Talleyrand came from England to the United States. 
Narbonne, if I mistake not, went to the continent ; 
and Madame de Stael ventured back to France, 
in 1795.' Her husband was again ambassador at 
Paris, where he remained, calmly receiving the al- 
ternate insolence and flattery of the populace, until 
1799, when he was recalled by the young king, 
Gustavus Adolphus, All beneath the surface in 
France was, at that time, heaving and tumultuous ; 
but men had been so terrified and wearied v/ith the 
work of blood, that society was for a time restored 
to external stillness. 

*At such a period, a mind like Madame de 
Stael's had a powerful influence. Her saloon was 
a resort for all the restless politicians of the day, 
and she was once denounced to the Convention as 
a person dangerous to the state ; but her character, 
as wife of a foreign ambassador, protected her ; 
and she even ventured to publish a pamphlet on 
the prospect of peace, addressed to Mr Pitt and 
the French people, which contained remarks oppos- 
ed to the views of the reisfnins: demasosue. This 

3 3 SO 



36 MADAME DESTAEL. 

pamphlet was much praised by Mr Fox in the Eng- 
lish Parliament. 

The principal charge brought against her, by the 
Directory, was the courage and zeal with which she 
served the suffering emigrants : she would have 
been imprisoned on this account, had it not been 
for the friendly exertions of Barras. 

One day, an emigrant, whose brother was arrest- 
ed and condemned to be shot, came in great agita- 
tion to beg her to save his life. She recollected 
that she had some acquaintance with General 
Lemoine, who had a right to suspend the judgments 
of the military commission. Thanking Heaven 
for the idea, she instantly went to his house. 

At first he abruptly refused her petition. She 
says, ' My heart throbbed at the sight of that broth- 
er, who might think that I was not employing the 
words best fitted to obtain what I asked, I ¥/as 
afraid of saying too much or too little ; of losing 
the fatal hour, after which all would be over ; or 
of neglecting an argument, which might prove suc- 
cessful. I looked by turns at the clock and the 
General to see whether his soul or time would ap- 
proach the term most quickly. Twice he took the 
pen to sign a reprieve, and twice the fear of com- 
mitting himself restrained him. At last, he was 
unable to refuse us ; and may heaven shower bless- 
ings on him for the deed. The reprieve arrived in 
season, and innocence was saved !' 

In 1796, Madame de Stael was summoned to 
Coppet to attend the death-bed of her mother. She 



MADAME DE STAEL. 37 

has given us a very interesting account of her fa- 
ther's unwearied tenderness toward his dying wife, 
in the Preface to M. Necker's MSS. published 
by her after his death. She remained to soothe 
her father under his severe affliction, for nearly a 
year. During this time, she wrote her Essay on ^ 
the Passions, divided into two parts : 1st, their 
Influence on the Happiness of Individuals ; 2d, on the 
Happiness of Nations. This work was suggested 
by the fearful scenes of the French Revolution, and 
probably could not have been written except by one 
who had witnessed the reckless violence and unnat- 
ural excitement of that awful period. It bears the 
marks of her peculiar strength, originality, and fer- 
vor; but it is accused of great metaphysical obscur- 
ity, and of presenting too dark and lurid a pic- (. 
lure of the human mind. Mr Jeffry, in a^ review 
of Madame de Stael, says, ' She always represents 
men a great deal more unhappy, more depraved, 
and more energetic, than they are ; she varnishes 
all her pictures with the glare of an extravagant 
enthusiasm.' 

This is undoubtedly just ; but it is excused by 
the peculiar circumstances of the times in which 
she lived, acting on her ardent feelings and power- 
ful imagination. No one but a witness of the French 
Revolution could have ranked a love of guilt and 
violence among the inherent passions of our nature. ^^ 

The second part, intended to embrace the prin- 
cipal object of the work, was never finished. 

We have already mentioned that Madame de 



38 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Stael's affections were supposed to have small share 
in her marriage. The coolness of her feelings to- 
Avard the Baron de Stael was considerably increas- 
ed by his heedless extravagance. On his wedding- 
day he is said to have assigned all his ministerial 
allowance to his friend, Count Fersen ; and the 
princely dowry he received with his wife was soon 
nearly dissipated by his thoughtless expenditure. 
Such was the embarrassment of his affairs, that 
Madame de Stael thought it a duty to place herself 
and her three children under the protection of her 
father. Thus the projectors of this match met the 
usual fate of those, who attempt to thwart nature, 
and take destiny out of the hands of Providence : 
it not only made the parties wretched, but it did 
not even serve the ambitious purposes for which the 
sacrifice is supposed to have been made. 

Her separation from her husband was not of 
long continuance. Illness, and approaching age 
required a wife's attentions; and Madame de Stael, 
true to the kind impulses of her generous nature, 
immediately returned to him. As soon as he could 
bear removal, she attempted, by slow journeys, to 
bring him to her father's residence, that she and 
her children might make the evening of his days 
as cheerful as possible. It was, however, destined 
to be otherwise ; he died at Poligni, on his way to 
Coppet, May 9th, 1802. 

* Madame de Stael's Essays on the Passions led 
her mind to a series of inquiries, which ended in 
her celebrated Essay on Literature, considered in 



MADAME DE STAEL. 39 

its relations with the Social Institutions. She 
devoted four years of severe labor to this work. 
It was begun at Coppet in 1796, and publish- 
ed in 1800. This great subject is divided into 
two parts : 1st, the Influence of Religion, Manners 
and Laws on Literature, with the reciprocal Influ- 
ence of Literature on Religion, Manners and Laws ; 
and 2d, the existing state and future prospects of 
all in France at the time she wrote. It is a bold 
and powerful review, by masses, of the relation of 
society to literature and of literature to society, from 
the time of Homer to the year 1789. The theory 
of the perfectibility of the human race, early struck 
the imagination of Madame de Stael ; and her 
efforts to prove this theory by the history of the 
world, and the progress of literature, has led her 
into difficulties, and mistakes in this important 
work ; it is, however, a beautiful whole , and deserv- 
edly placed her in the first rank among the writers 
of the age. 

* Immediately after the completion of this re- 
markable book, Madame de Stael went to Paris, 
where she arrived on the 9th of November, 1799 — 
the very day that placed the destiny of France in 
the hands of Bonaparte.' Her imagination seems to 
have been, at first, dazzled by the military glory of 
Napoleon. Lavalette was introduced to her at 
Talleyrand's, at the time when everybody was talk- 
ing of the brilliant campaigns in Italy. He says, 
* During dinner, the praises Madame de Stael lav- 
ished on the conqueror of Italy, had all the wildness, 



•v 



40 MADAME BE STAEL. 

romance, and exaggeration of poetry. When we 
left the table, the company withdrew to a small 
room to look at the portrait of the hero ; and as I 
stepped back to let her walk in, she said, " How 
shall I dare, to pass before an aid-de-camp of Bona- 
parte !" My confusion was so great that she also 
felt a little of it, and Talleyrand laughed at us.' 

In her work on the French Revolution, she says, 
' It was with a sentiment of great admiration 
that I first saw Bonaparte at Paris. I could not 
find words to reply to him when he came to me to 
say that he had sought my father at Coppet, and 
regretted having passed through Switzerland with- 
out seeing him. But when I was a little recover- 
ed from the confusion of admiration, a strongly- 
marked sentiment of fear succeeded. He, at that 
time, had no power ; the fear he inspired was caus- 
ed only by the singular effect of his person upon 
nearly all who approached him. Far from recov- 
ering my confidence at seeing him more frequently, 
he constantly intimidated me more and more. I 
had a confused feeling that no emotion of the heart 
could act upon him. He regarded a human being 
as a thing, not as a fellow-creature. For him 
nothing existed but himself Every time he spoke, 
I was struck with his superiority ; his discourse had 
no similitude to that of intellectual and cultivated 
men ; but it indicated an acute perception of cir- 
cumstances, such as the sportsman has of the game 
he pursues. He related the political and military 
Qvents of his life in a very interesting manner ; he 



MADAME DE ST A EL. 41 

had even something of Italian imagination in nar- 
ratives which admitted of gayety. But nothing 
could overcome my invincible aversion to v/hat I 
perceived in his character. There was in him a 
profound irony, from which nothing grand or beau- 
tiful escaped ; his wit was like the cold, sharp 
sword in romance, which froze the wound it inflict- 
ed. I could never breathe freely in his presence. 
I examined him with attention ; but when he ob- 
served that my looks were fixed upon him, he had 
the art of taking away all expression from his eyes, 
as if they had been suddenly changed to marble.' 

Notwithstanding these feelings of fear and dis- 
trust, Madame de Stael seems to have been willing 
to produce an impression upon the First Consul. 
This might have originated in ambition to obtain 
the confidence of a man likely to possess so much 
political power ; or in vanity, slightly piqued by the 
indifference with which he treated her, in common 
with all other women ; for indifference was a thino- 
to which Madame de Stael was entirely unaccus- 
tomed. 

Sir Walter Scott tells us, that she once asked 
Bonaparte, rather abruptly, in the middle of a 
brilliant party at Talleyrand's, ' whom he considered 
the greatest woman in the world, alive or dead V 
* Her, madam, who has borne the most children,' 
replied Bonaparte, with much appearance of sim- 
plicity. Disconcerted by the reply, she observed, 
that ' he was reported not to be a great admirer of 
the fair sex.' ' I am very fond of my wife, madam/ 



42 MADAME DE ST A EL. 

he replied, with one of those brief yet piquant ob- 
servations, which adjourned a debate as promptly 
as one of his characteristic manoeuvres would have 
ended a battle.' 

According to Bourrienne, this sort of abruptness 
towards ladies was nothing unusual in Napoleon. 
He tells us that he often indulged in such rude ex- 
clamations as the following, — ' How red your 
elbows are ! ' ' What a strange head-dress you 
wear!' ' Pray, tell me if you ever change your 
gown ! ' &LC. 

An anecdote Madame de Stael herself tells in 
her ten years' exile, betrays a wish that Bonaparte 
should a1 least be afraid of her talents. ' I was 
invited to General Berthier's one day,' says she, 
' when the First Consul was to be of the party. As 
I knew he had expressed himself unfavorably about 
me, it occurred to me, that he might accost me with 
some of those rude expressions, which he often took 
pleasure in addressing to ladies, even when they 
paid court to him ; for this reason, I wrote a num- 
ber of tart and piquant replies to what I supposed 
he might say. Had he chosen to insult me, it 
would have shown a want both of character and 
understanding to have been taken by surprise ; and 
as no person could be sure of being unembarrassed 
in the presence of such a man, I prepared myself 
beforehand to brave him. Fortunately, the precau- 
tion was unnecessary ; he only addressed the most 
common questions to me.' 

In fact, to Bonaparte's habitual contempt of wo- 



MADAME DE STAEL. 43 

men, was added some fear of Madame de StaeTs 
penetration, as well as her politics. ' He was dis- 
posed to repel the advances of one, whose views 
were so shrewd, and her observation so keen, while 
her sex permitted her to push her inquiries farther 
than one man might have dared to do in conversa- 
tion with another.' 

Besides all this, she was the only writer of any 
notoriety in France, who had never in any way al- 
luded to him or his government ; and, like her, he 
probably would have preferred sarcasm to silence. 
Moreover, Bonaparte, for a great man, had some 
very little feelings ; and perhaps he indulged some- 
what of jealousy toward one of the weaker sex, 
who in his own capital was such a powerful com- 
petitor for fame. 

He judged rightly when he supposed that her 
great abilities would all be exerted in opposition to 
his ambitious views. *' Her peculiar position in so- 
ciety brought her in contact with almost every per- 
son of rank and influence ; and this, united with 
her own uncommon sagacity, soon enabled her to 
discover his real character and intentions. From 
the moment she understood him, she became one 
of the most active and determined of his opposers.' 
In the beginning of his reign, when policy com- 
pelled him to be gradual in his usurpation of power, 
she was not a little troublesome to him. In the or- 
ganization of the new government, she is said to 
have fairly out-manoeuvred him, and to have plac- 
ed the celebrated Benjamin Constant in one of the 
assemblies, in spite of his efforts to the contrary. 



44 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Bonaparte kept close watch upon her ; and his 
spies soon informed him that people always left 
Madame de Stael's house with less confidence in 
him, than they had when they entered it. 

Joseph Bonaparte said to her, ' My brother com- 
plains of you. He asked rne yesterday, "Why 
does not Madame de Stael attach herself to my gov- 
ernment 1 Does she want the payment of her fath- 
er's deposit ? I will give orders for it. Does she 
wish for a residence in Paris ? I will allow it her. 
In short, what is it that she wishes ? " ' Madame de 
Stael replied, ' The question is not what J ivishj 
but what I think.' She says, ' I know not wheth- 
er Joseph reported this answer to Napoleon ; but if 
he did, I am certain he attached no meaning to it ; 
for he believes in the sincerity of no one's opin- 
ions ; he considers every kind of morality as noth- 
ing more than a form, or as the regular means of 
forwarding selfish and ambitious views. 

' Integrity, whether encountered in individuals or 
nations, was the only thing for which he knew not 
how to calculate ; his artifices were disconcerted by 
honesty, as evil spirits are exorcised by the sign of 
the cross.' 

A zealous friend of liberty, so clear-sighted to 
his views, and so openly his enemy, was of course 
a very inconvenient obstacle in the path of Napo- 
leon. Being anxious for a pretext to banish her, 
he seized upon the first that offered, which happen- 
ed to be the publication of a political pamphlet by 
her father, in 1802. On the pretence that she had 



MADAME DE STAEL. 45 

contributed to the falsehoods, which he said it con- 
tained, he requested Talleyrand to inform her that 
she must quit Paris. This was a delicate office for 
an old acquaintance to perform ; but Talleyrand 
was even then used to difficult positions. His po- 
litical history has proved that no fall, however pre- 
cipitate, can bewilder the selfish acuteness of his 
faculties, or impair the marvellous pliancy of his 
motions : his attachment to places rather than per- 
sons is another, and stronger point of resemblance, 
between him and a certain household animal. 

An anecdote which has been often repeated is a 
good specimen of his diplomatic adroitness : Mad- 
ame de Stael, being in a boat with him and Mad- 
ame Grand, afterward his wife, put his gallantry to 
the proof by asking him ' v»^hich he would try to 
save, if they should both chance to fall in the 
water ? ' ' My dear madam,' replied Talleyrand, ' I 
should be so sure that you v»^ould knovv' how to swim.' 

His characteristic finesse was shown in his man- 
ner of performing the embarrassing office assigned 
him by the First Consul. He called upon Madame 
de Stael and after a few compliments, said, ' I hear, 
madam, you are going to take a journey.' ' Oh, 
no ! it is a mistake, I have no such intention.' 
* Pardon me, I was informed that you were going 
to Switzerland.' ' I have no such project, I as- 
sure you.' ' But I have been told, on the best au- 
thority, that you would quit Paris in three days.' 
Madam.e de Stael took the hint, and went to 
Coppet. 



46 . MADAME DE STAEL. 

In the meantime, however, before she left Paris, 
she completed a novel in six volumes, under the 
title of Delphine, which was published in 1802. 
This work is an imitation of Rousseau's Nouvelle 
Heloise. Being written in the form of letters, it 
afforded facilities for embodying animated descrip- 
tions of Parisian society, and the sparkling say- 
ings of the moment. But things of this sort, ' like 
the rich wines of the south though delicious in 
their native soil, lose their spirit by transportation.' 

Delphine, is a brilliant and unhappy being, gov- 
erned by her feelings, and misled by her haughty 
sense of freedom. The reader at once suspects 
that, under a slight veil of fiction, the author is her 
own heroine : and though there are some intention- 
al points of difference, I presume that Delphine is 
a pretty correct portrait of Madame de Stael's im- 
petuous and susceptible character at the time she 
wrote it. ' This book has all the extravao;ance and 
immorality of the Nouvelle Heloise, but is inferior 
to its model in eloquence and enthusiasm.' 

In 1803, Madame de Stael ventured to reside 
within ten leagues of Paris, occasionally going there, 
to visit the museum and the theatres. Some of her 
enemies informed Bonaparte that she received a 
great many visiters, and he immediately banished 
her to the distance of forty leagues from the capital ; 
a sentence which was rigorously enforced. This 
severity excited the more remark as she was the 
first woman exiled by Bonaparte. A panegyrist of 
Napoleon has implied that she incurred his hatred 



MADAME DE STAEL 47 

by persecuting him with her love ; that she was al- 
ways telling him none but an intellectual woman 
was fit to be his mate, that genius should unite with 
genius, &lc. 

This is unquestionably a fable. If she made such 
remarks to the hero, it could not have been with a 
view to herself; for he married Josephine several 
years before the death of the Baron de Stael. Her 
own account of her feelings towards Bonaparte is 
sufficiently frank and explicit to warrant our be- 
lief in its truth. 

Joseph Bonaparte, of whose uniform kindness 
Madame de Stael speaks very gratefully, interceded 
in her favor ; and his wife even dared to invite her to 
spend a few days at their country-seat, at the very 
time when she was the object of Napoleon's perse- 
cution. 

Bonaparte knew enough of Madame de Stael's 
character to be aware that an exile from Paris would 
be a most terrible calamity. The excitement of 
society was almost as necessary to her existence as 
the air she breathed ; reluctant to relinquish it, she 
lingered near the metropolis as long as she dared, 
before taking her final departure for Switzerland. 

Nothing could be more intimate and delightful 
than the friendship between M. Necker and his 
highly-gifted daughter ; but notwithstanding the 
happiness she enjoyed in his society, and the de- 
light she took in the education of her children, 
Madame de Stael sighed for the intellectual ex- 
citements of Paris. She had been so long accus- 



48 MADAME DE ST A EL. 

tomed to society, that it became an indispensable 
impulse to her genius and her gayety. She reproach- 
ed herself for these feelings, and made strong efforts 
to become habituated to the monotony of a seclud- 
ed life. But she no longer seemed like herself. 
Madame de Stael, thus tamed, was no longer Mad- 
ame de Stael. 

Her father, conscious how much she needed the 
exhilarating influence of society, had always en- 
couraged her visits to Paris ; and now that she was 
exiled from the scene of so many triumphs and so 
much enjoyment, he strongly favored her project of 
visiting Germany. Accordingly, in the winter of 
1803, she went to Frankfort, Weimar, and Berlin. 
At Frankfort, her daughter, then five years old, was 
taken dangerously ill. Madame de Stael knew no 
one in that city, and v/as ignorant of the Ian 
guage ; even the physician to whose care she entrust 
ed the child scarcely spoke a word of French 
Speaking of her distress on this occasion, she ex- 
claims, ' Oh, how my father shared with me in 
all my trouble ! What letters he wrote me ! What 
a number of consultations of physicians, all copied 
with his own hand, he sent me from Geneva ! ' 

The child recovered, and she proceeded to Wei- 
mar, so justly called the Athens of Germany ; and 
afterward to Berlin, where she was received with 
distinguished kindness by the king and queen, and 
the young prince Louis. At Weimar she writes, ' I re- 
sumed my courage on seeing, through all the diffi- 
culties of the language, the immense intellectual 



MADAME DE STAEL. 49 

riches that existed out of France. I learned to read 
German ; I listened attentively to Goethe and Wie- 
land, who, fortunately for me, spoke French extreme- 
ly well. I comprehended the mind and genius of 
Schiller, in spite of the difficulty he felt in express- 
ing himself in a foreign language. The society of 
the Duke and Duchess of Weimar pleased me ex- 
ceedingly. I passed three months there, during 
which the study of German literature gave me all 
the occupation my mind required. My father wish- 
ed me to pass the winter in Germany, and not re- 
tarn to him until spring. Alas ! alas ! how puch 
I calculated on carrying back to him the harvest of 
new ideas which I was going to collect in this 
journey. He was frequently telling me that my 
letters and conversation were all that kept up his 
connexion with the world. His active and pene- 
trating mind excited me to think, for the sake of the 
pleasure of talking to him. If I observed, it was 
to convey my impressions to him ; if I listened, it 
was to repeat to him.' 

M. de Bonstetten, vv^lio used to see her corres- 
pondence with her father, says, ' The letters she 
wrote him had more spirit, ease, eloquence, and 
acuteness of observation, than anything she ever 
published.' It is deeply to be regretted that M. 
Necker, from motives of political caution, always 
burned these letters as soon as they had been seen 
by her most intimate friends. Madame de Saus- 
sure speaks of them as indescribably charming — 
full of striking anecdotes, and pictorial sketches. 
4 



50 MADAME DESTAEL. 

She says, ' Nothing could surpass them, but Mad- 
ame de Stael's first interYiews with her father, after 
she had been separated from him by a temporary 
absence. The deep emotion, which she tried to 
repress, lest it should excite him too much, spread 
itself like a torrent .over all her conversation. She 
talked of men and things — discussed governments 
— and described the effects she herself had pro- 
duced — with an eager joy, that continually over- 
flowed in caresses and tears. Everything she re- 
counted was made to bear some relation to him. 
The characters she portrayed were brought in lively 
contrast with his intelligence, his goodness, and his 
perfect integrity. However foreign the subject, it 
always conveyed some indirect eulogium, or some 
expression of tenderness, to her beloved father. 
What a paternal glory illuminated M. Necker's 
countenance as he looked and listened ! How joy 
sparkled in those eyes, which never lost the fire of 
youth ! Not that he believed her lavish praise — but 
in it he read his daughter's heart, and his own de- 
lighted in her prodigious endowments.' 

The same lady relates the following anecdote, 
somewhat laughable in itself, but interesting as a 
specimen of Madame de Stael's excessive sensibili- 
ty in everything that related to her father: 

' M. Necker had sent his carriage to Geneva 
for the purpose of bringing myself and children to 
Coppet. It was evening when I left home, and 
the carriage was overturned in a ditch. No one 
was injured; but as it took some time to refit the 



MADAME DE STAEL. 51 

carriage, it was quite late when we arrived at Cop- 
pet. Madame de Stael was alone in the parlor, 
anxiously awaiting our arrival. As soon as I be- 
gan to speak of our accident, she eagerly interrupt- 
ed me with, " How did you come ? " " In your fath- 
er's carriage." " Yes, yes, I know that — but who 
brought you ? " " Richard, the coachman." " Good 
Heavens ! " she exclaimed, " What if he should up- 
set my father ! " 

' She rung the bell violently, and ordered the 
coachman to be called. The man being out of the 
way, she was obliged to wait a moment, during 
which time, she walked the room in great agitation. 
" My poor father !" she repeated, " what if he 
should be upset ? At your age, and that of your 
children, it is nothino; at all. But at his ag;e — and 
so large as he is — and into a ditch, too ! Perhaps 
he would have remained there a long time, call- 
ing, and calling in vain. My poor father." 

' When the coachman appeared, I was very curi- 
ous to see how she would find vent for her strong 
emotions ; for she was proverbially very kind and 
affable to her domestics. She advanced solemnly 
toward him, and in a voice somewhat stifled, but 
which gradually became very loud, she said, " Rich- 
ard, have you ever heard that I have a great deal of 
talent?" The man stared in amazement. " I say," 
she repeated, " do you knov/ that I have a great 
deal of talent?" He remained silent, and confus- 
ed. ^' Learn then that I have talent, great talent — 
prodigious talent! and I will make use of the 



53 MADAME DE STAEL. 

whole of it, to keep you shut up in a dungeon all 
your life, if you ever upset my father !" ' 

Alas ! this sacred tie, the strongest, perhaps, that 
ever bound the heartsof parent and child, was soon 
to be burst asunder. At Berlin, Madame de Stael 
was suddenly stopped in her travels, by the news 
of her father's dangerous illness. She hastened 
back with an impatience that would fain have an- 
nihilated time and space ; but he died before she ar- 
rived. This event happened in April, 1804. At 
first, she refused to believe the tidings. She was 
herself so full of life, that she could not realize 
death. Her father had such remarkable freshness 
of imagination, such cheerfulness, such entire sym- 
pathy with youthful feeling, that she forgot the 
difference in their ages. She could not bear to 
think of him as old ; and once, when she heard a 
person call him so, she resented it highly, and said 
she never wished to see anybody who repeat- 
ed such words. And now, when they told her that 
the old man was gathered to his fathers, she could 
not, and she would not believe it. 

Madame de Saussure was at Coppet when M. 
Necker died ; and as soon as her services to him 
were ended, she went to meet her friend, on her 
melancholy return from Germany, under the pro- 
tection of M. de Schlegel, her son's German tutor. 
She says, the convulsive agony of her grief was ab- 
solutely frightful to witness ; it seemed as if life 
must have perished in the struggle. Her friends 
tried every art to soothe her ; and sometimes for a 



MADAME DE STAEL. 53 

moment she appeared to give herself up to her 
usual animation and eloquence ; but her trembling 
hands, and quivering lips soon betrayed the inter- 
nal conflict, and the transient calm was succeeded 
by a violent burst of anguish. Yet even during 
these trying moments, she displayed her character- 
istic kindness of heart : she constantly tried to 
check her sorrow, that she might give such a turn 
to the conversation as would put M. de Schlegel 
at his ease, and enable him to show his great abili- 
ties to advantage. 

The impression produced upon Madame de Stael 
by her father's death seems to have been as deep 
and abiding, as it was po^verful. Through her 
whole life, she carried him in her heart. She be- 
lieved that his spirit was her guardian angel ; and 
when her thoughts were most pure and elevated, 
she said it was because he was with her . She in- 
voked him in her prayers, and when any happy 
event occurred, she used to say with a sort of joy- 
ful sadness, ' My father has procured this for me.' 
His miniature became an object of superstitious 
love. Once, and once only, she parted with it, 
for a short time. Havino; herself found great con- 
solation, durino- illness, in lookino; at those beloved 
features, she sent it to her sick daughter, imagin- 
ing it would have the same effect upon her ; tell- 
ing her in her letter, ' Look upon that, and it 
will comfort you in your sufferings.' 

To the latest period of her life, the sight of an 
old man affected her, because it reminded her of 



54 MADAME BE STAEL. 

her father ; and the lavishness with which she gave 
her sympathy and her purse to the distresses of 
.the aged proved the fervor of her filial recollec- 
tions. 

Though Madame de Stael's thoughts had al- 
ways been busy with the world, she was never 
destitute of religious sensibility. Conscious as she 
was of her intellectual strength, she did not at- 
tempt to wrestle with the mysteries of God. Her 
beautiful mind inclined rather to reverence and su- 
perstition than to unbelief No doubt, religion 
was with her more a matter of feeling, than of 
faith ; but she respected the feeling, and never 
suffered the pride of reason to expel it from her 
heart. There is something beautifully pathetic in 
the exclamation that burst from her, when her lit- 
tle daughter v/as dangerously ill at Frankfort : ' Oh, 
what would become of a mother, trembling for the 
life of her child, if it were not for prayer !' 

Her father's death gave a more permanent in- 
fluence to such feelings, If I may use the expres- 
sion, her character became less volcanic, while it 
lost nothing of its power. 

Anxious to be to her children what he had been 
to her, she spared no pains to impress them with 
what was excellent in his character. She fre- 
quently read with them moral and religious books. 
The writings of Fenelon afforded her great conso- 
lation and delight; and during the last years of 
her life, the, ' Imitation of Jesus Christ,' by Thom- 
as a Kempis, was her favorite volume. She was a 



MADAME DE STAEL. 55 

most affectionate and devoted mother, and singu- 
larly beloved by her children. On this subject we 
have the testimony of her daughter, the Duchess 
de Broglie, who in talent and character is said to 
be worthy of her high descent. She says, ' My 
mother attached great importance to our happi- 
ness in childhood, and affectionately shared all our 
little griefs. When I was twelve years old, she 
used to talk to me as to an equal ; and nothing 
gave me such delight as half an hour's intimate 
conversation with her. It elevated me at once, 
gave me new life, and inspired me with courage in 
all my studies. She herself heard my lessons 
every day ; she would not procure a governess, even 
in the midst of her greatest troubles. She taught 
us to love and pity her, without ever diminishing 
our reverence. Never was there a mother who at 
once inspired so much confidence, and so much 
respect.' 

During the life-time of M. Necker, Madame de 
Stael remained in childish ignorance of all the 
common affairs of life. She was in the habit of 
applying to him for advice about everything, even 
her dress. The unavoidable result was that she 
was very improvident. Her father used to com- 
pare her to a savage, who would sell his hut in 
the morning, without thinking what would become 
of him at night. 

When her guide and support was taken from her, 
no wonder that she felt as if it would be absolutely 
impossible for her to do anything without him. 



56 MADAME DE STAEL. " 

For a short time she gave herself up to the most 
discouraging fancies. She thought her fortune 
would be wasted, her children would not be educa- 
ted, her servants would not obey her, — in short, 
that everything would go wrong. But her anxiety 
to do everything as he would have done it, gave her 
a motive for exertion, and inspired her with strength. 
She administered upon his estate with remarkable 
ability, and arranged her affairs with a most scrupu- 
i lous regard to the future interests of her children. 
Her first literary employment after the death of 
her father was a tribute to his memory. ' She 
collected his MSS. and published them, accom- 
panied with a most eloquent and interesting memoir, 
full of the first deep impressions of her sorrow.' 
M. Constant, the celebrated statesman and writer, 
has said of this preface, ' Perhaps I deceive my- 
self ; but those pages appear to me more likely to 
lead one to a true knowledge of her character, 
and to endear her to those who knew her not, than 
her most eloquent writings on any other subject ; 
for her whole mind and heart are there displayed. 
The delicacy of her perceptions, the astonishing 
variety of her thought, the ardor of her eloquence, 
the weight of her judgment, the reality of her 
enthusiasm, her love of liberty and justice, her pas- 
sionate sensibility, the melancholy which often 
marked even her purely literary writings ; — all 
these are concentrated here, to express a single 
feeling, to call forth the sympathy of others in a 
single sentiment, Nowhere else has she treated 



MADAME DE STAEL. 57 

a subject, with all the resources of her intellect, 
all the depth of her feeling, and without being di- 
verted by a single thought of a less absorbing 
nature.' 

When this occupation was finished, her desolate 
heart fed upon its own feelings, until she could no 
longer endure the melancholy associations inspired 
by everything around her. 

Her health as well as her spirits sunk rapidly 
under the oppression of grief. Her friends advis- 
ed new scenes and chancre of climate. Paris was 
still closed ao;ainst her : though M. Necker, with 
his dying hand, had written to assure Bonaparte 
that his daughter had no share in his political pam- 
phlet, and to beseech that her sentence of exile 
might be repealed after his death. 

Thus situated, her thoughts turned toward Italy. 
Sismondi accompanied her in this journey. They 
arrived just when the fresh glory of a southern 
spring mantled the earth and the heavens. She 
found a renovating influence in the beautiful sky 
and the balmy climate of this lovely land, which 
she, with touching superstition, ascribed to the in- 
tercession of her father. ' She passed more than 
a year in Italy ; visiting Milan, Venice, Florence, 
Rome, Naples, and other more inconsiderable cities, 
with lively interest and great minuteness of obser- 
vation. The impression produced by her talent 
and character is still fresh in the memories of those 
who saw her.' 
, She returned to Switzerland in the summer of 



58 MADAME DE STAEL. 

1805 and passed a year among her friends at 
Coppet and Geneva; during this period she began 
Corinna, the splendid record which she has left 
the world of her visit to Italy. This work was 
published in 1802, and perhaps obtained more ex- 
tensive and immeditate fame than anything she 
ever wrote. It was received with one burst of 
applause by all the literati of Europe. Mr Jeffry, 
in his review of it, pronounced Madame de Stael 
* the greatest writer in Prance, after the time of 
Voltaire and Rousseau ; and the greatest female 
writer of any age, or country.' 

*~ Like Rousseau and Byron, Madame de Stael 
wrote from the impulses of her own heart, and 
threw something of herself into all her fictions In 
Corinna, ' a child of the sun,' all genius and sen- 
sibility, forever departing from the line marked out 
by custom, and mourning over her waywardness as 
if it were guilt, vve at once recognise Madame de 
Stael herself, with all her sweeping energies and 
irresistible inspiration. This book is character- 
ized in an eminent degree by Madame de Stael's 
peculiar excellences, grandeur and pathos. As a 
national painting it is more fascinating than as a 
romance : Italy, in all the freshness of its present 
beauty, and the magnificence of its glorious recol- 

^ lections is perfectly embabiied by her genius. 

Her eldest son, Augustus, Baron de Stael, was at 
this time in Paris, pursuing his studies prepara- 
tory to entering the Polytechnic school ; and after 
the completion of Corinna, Madame de StaeL, in 



MADAME DE STAEL. 59 

order to be as near him as possible, went to reside 
at Auxerre, and afterward at Rouen, from whence 
she could daily send to Paris. She led a very re- 
tired life, and was extremely prudent about inter- 
meddling with politics ; those, who had anything to 
hope or to fear from the Emperor, did not dare to 
maintain any intercourse with her ; and of course 
she was not thronged with visiters, in those days of 
despotism and servility ; all she wished, was liberty 
to superintend the publication of Corinna, and to 
watch over the education of her son. 

But all this moderation and caution did not sat- 
isfy Bonaparte. He wanted to interdict her writ- 
ing anything, even if it were, like Corinna, totally 
unconnected with politics. She was again banish- 
ed from France ; and, by a sad coincidence, she 
received the order on the ninth of April, the an- 
niversary of her father's death. When she return- 
ed to Coppet, all her movements were watched by 
the spies of government, so that existence became 
a complete state of bondage. To use her own 
words, she was ' tormented in all the interests and 
relations of life and on all the sensible points of her 
character.' She still had warm and devoted friends, 
who could not be withdrawn from her by motives of 
interest, or fear ; but with all the consolations of 
fame and friendship, it was sufficiently inconven- 
ient and harassing to be thus fettered and annoyed. 

As a means of employing her mind, which, ever 
since the death of her father, had been strongly 
prone to indulge in images of gloom and terror^ 



60 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Madame de Stael industriously continued the study 
of German literature and philosophy. Her ac- 
quaintance with M. de Schlegel and M. Villers 
(the author of an admirable book on the Reforma- 
tion, which obtained the prize from the French 
Academy,) afforded her remarkable facilities for 
perfecting herself in the German language. Her 
first visit had brought her into delightful compan- 
ionship with most of the great minds in North 
Germany ; but she deemed it necessary to visit the 
South, before she completed a work, which she 
had long had in contemplation. In company with 
her beautiful friend, Madame Recamier, she passed 
the winter of 1807 at Vienna, receiving the same 
flattering distinctions from the great and the gifted, 
which had everywhere attended her footsteps. 

She began her celebrated book on Germany in 
the country itself, and surrounded by every facility 
for giving a correct picture of its literature, man- 
ners, and national character ; as we have just stat- 
ed, she made a second visit, for the purpose of more 
thorough investigation ; and she devoted yet^two 
more years to it after her return ; making a period 
of about six years from the time of its commence- 
ment to its final completion. It is true, this ardu- 
ous labor was not continued uninterruptedly : she 
had in the meanwhile, made her visit to Italy, and 
written Corinna ; and while she was employed with 
her great work on Germany, she composed and 
played at Coppet the greater part of the little pieces, 
which are now collected in the sixteenth volume of 



MADAME DE STA EL. 61 

her works, under the title of Dramatic Essays. At 
the beginning of the summer, of 1810, she finished 
the tliree volumes of Germany, and went to reside 
just without forty leagues from Paris, in order to 
superintend its publication. She says, ' I fixed 
myself at a farm called Fosse, which a generous 
friend lent me. The house was inhabited by a 
Vendean soldier, who certainly did not keep it in the 
nicest order, but who had a loyal good-nature that 
made everything easy, and an originality of char- 
acter that was very amusing. Scarcely had we ar- 
rived, when an Italian musician, whom I had with 
me to give lessons to my daughter, began playing 
upon the guitar ; and Madame Recamier's sweet 
voice accompanied my daughter upon the harp. 
The peasants collected round the windows, aston- 
ished to hear this colony of troubadours, which had 
come to enliven the solitude of their master. Cer- 
tainly this intimate assemblage, this solitary resi- 
dence, this agreeable occupation, did no harm to 
any one. We had imagined the idea of sitting 
round a green table after dinner, and writing letters 
to each other instead of conversing. These varied 
and multiplied feie5-d-^e^es amused us so much, that 
we were impatient to get from table, where we were 
talking, in order to go and write to one another. 
When any strangers came in, we could not bear the 
interruption of our habits ; and our penny-post al- 
ways went its round. The inhabitants of the neigh- 
boring town v.ere somewhat astonished at these 
new manners, and looked upon them as pedantic; 



62 MADAMEDESTAEL 

though in fact, it was merely a resource against 
the monotony of solitude. One day a gentleman, 
who had never thought of anything in his life but 
hunting, came to take my boys with him into the 
woods ; he remained some time seated at our ac- 
tive, but silent table. Madame Recamier wrote a 
little note to this jolly sportsman, in order that he 
might not be too much a stranger to the circle in 
which he was placed. He excused himself from 
receiving it, assuring us that he never could read 
writing by daylight. We afterward laughed not a 
little at the disappointment our beautiful friend had 
met with in her benevolent coquetry ; and thought 
that a billet from her hand would not often have 
met such a fate. Our life passed in this quiet man- 
ner ; and, if I may judge by myself, none of us 
found it burdensome. 

' I wished to go and see the Opera of Cinderilla 
represented at a paltry provincial theatre at Blois. 
Coming out of the theatre on foot, the people fol- 
lowed me in crowds, more from curiosity to see the 
woinan Bonaparte had exiled, than from any other 
motive. This kiiid of celebrity, which I owed to 
misfortune much more than to talent, displeased 
the minister of police, who wroie to the Prefect of 
Loire that I was surrounded by a court. " Certainly," 
said I to the Prefect, "it is not power that gives me 
a court." 

* On the 23d of September, I corrected the last 
proof of Germany ; after six years' labor, I felt 
great delight in writing the word end. I made a 



MADAME DE ST A EL. 63 

list of one hundred persons to whom I wished to 
send copies in different parts of Europe.' The 
work passed the censorship prescribed by law', and 
Madame de Stael, supposing everything was satis- 
factorily arranged, went with her family to visit her 
friend M. de Montmorency, at his residence about 
five leagues from Blois. This gentleman could 
claim the oldest hereditary ranii of any nobleman 
in France; being able to trace back his pedigree, 
through a long line of glorious ancestry, to the first 
Baron of Christendom, in the time of Charlemagne. 
Madame de Stael says, ' He was a pious man, only 
occupied in this world with making himself fit for 
heaven ; in his conversation with me he never paid 
any attention to the affairs of the day, but only 
sought to do good to my soul.' 

Madame de Stael, after having passed a delight- 
ful day amid the magnificent forests and historical 
recollections of this ancient castle, retired to rest. 
In the night, M. de Montmorency was awakened 
by the arrival of Augustus, Baron de Stael, v/ho 
came to inform him that his mother's book on Ger» 
many was likely to be destroyed, in consequence of 
a new edict, which had very much the appearance 
of being made on purpose for the occasion. Her 
son, as soon as he had done" his errand, left M. de 
Montmorency to soften the blow as much as possi- 
ble, but to urge his mother to return immediately 
after she had taken breakfast ; he himself went back 
before day-light to see that her papers were not 
seized by the imperial police. Luckily, the proof- 



64 MADAME DE STAEL. 

sheets of her valuable work were saved. Some 
further notes on Germany she had with her in a 
small portable desk in the carriage. As they drew 
near her habitation she gave the desk to her young- 
est son, who jumped over a wall, and carried it into 
the house through the garden. Miss Randall, an 
English lady, an excellent and much beloved friend, 
came to meet her on the road, to console her as 
much as she could under this great disappoint- 
ment. A file of soldiers were sent to her publish- 
er's, to destroy every sheet of the ten thousand copies 
that had been printed. She was required to give 
upherMSS. and quit France in twentyfour hours. 
In her Ten Years' Exile, Madame de Stael drily 
remarks, ' It v/as the custom of Bonaparte to or- 
der conscripts and icomen to be in readiness to quit 
France in twentyfour hours.' 

She had given up some rough notes of her work 
to the police, but the spies of government had done 
their duty so well, that they knew there was a copy 
saved ; they could tell the exact number of proof- 
sheets that had been sent to her by the publisher, 
and the exact number she had returned. She did 
not pretend to deny the fact ; but she told them she 
had placed the copy out of her hands, and that she 
neither could nor would put it in their power. 

The severity used on this occasion was as un- 
necessary as it was cruel, for her book on Germany 
contained nothing to give offence to the government. 
Indeed the only fault pretended to be found with it 
was that it was purely literary, and contained no 



MADAME DE STAEL. 65 

mention of the Emperor or his wars in that coun- 
try.' 

The minister of police gave out, ' in corsair 
terms, that if Madame de Stael, on her return to 
Coppet should venture one foot within forty leagues 
of Paris she was aoood prize.' When arrived at 
Coppet, she received express orders not to go more 
than four leagues from her own house ; and t is 
was enforced with so much rigor, that having one 
day accidentally extended her ride a little beyond 
her limits, the military police were sent Al speed 
to brincr her back. 

If Napoleon fait ^i/tered that all the sovereigns 
of Europe were obUged ti combine to kesp one 
man on a barren island, Madame de Stael might 
well consider it no small compliment for one w^o- 
man to be able to inspire with fear the mighty 
troubler of the world's peace.* 

She was often informed by the creatures of gov- 
ernment that she might easily put a i end to the 
inconveniences she suffered, by publishing a few 
pa'-esin praise of the emperor ; but Madame de 
Statl, though her exile had cost her many, i-^^any 
hours of depression and anxiety, was too noble 
thus to bow the knee to a tyrant, whom her heart 
disliked, and her conscience disapproved. 

* Bonaparte dreaded an epigram, pointed against himself, 
more than he di-eaded ' infernal machines.' When he was 
told that no woman, however talented, could shake the foun- 
dation of his power, he replied, ' Madame de ~ t el carries a 
qviiver full of arrows, that would hit a man if he were seated 
on a r-iinbow.' 



63 M ADAME DE STAEL. 

¥/hen the prefect of Geneva urged her to cele- 
brate in verse the birth of the king of Rome, she 
told him that if she did such a ridiculous thing, she 
should confine herself to wishing him a good nurse. 

M. de Schlegel, who for eight years had been 
the tutor of her sons, wa& compelled to leave Swit- 
zerland. The best pretence the prefect could in- 
vent, on the spur of the occasion, was, that he was 
not French in his feeling, because he preferred 
the Phedra of Euripides to the Phedra of Racine. 
The real fact was, Bonaparte knew that his ani- 
mated conversation cheered her solitude, and that 
to deprive her of society was almost to deprive her 
of life. 

Few in this selfish world would visit one, who 
thus, ' carried about with her the contagion of mis- 
fortune ;' and she was even fearful of, writing to 
her friends, lest she should in seme way implicate 
them in her own difficulties. In the midst of these 
perplexities, her true friend, M. de Montmorency, 
came to make her a visit ; she told him such a 
proof of friendship would offend the emperor; but 
he felt safe in the consciousness of a life entirely 
secluded from any connexion with public aff*airs. 
The day after his arrival, they rode to Fribourg, 
to see a convent of nuns, of the dismal order of La 
Trappe. She says, ' We reached the convent in 
the midst of a severe shower, after having been 
obliged to come nearly a mile on foot. I rung the 
bell at the gate of the cloister ; a nun appeared 
behind the lattice opening, through which the 



MADA ME DE STAE L. 67 

portress may. speak to strangers. " What do you 
want?" said she, in a voice without modulation, 
such as we might suppose that of a ghost. " I 
should like to see the interior of the convent." 
" That is impossible," she replied. "But I am 
very wet, and want to dry my dress." She immedi- 
ately touched a spring, which opened the door of 
an outer apartment, in which I was allowed to rest 
myself; but no living creature appeared. In a 
few minutes, impatient at not being able to pene- 
trate the interior of the convent, after my long 
walk, I rung again. The same person re-appeared. 
I asked her if females were never admitted into 
the convent. She answered, " only when they had 
the intention of becoming nuns." 

' " But." said I, " How can I tell whether I should 
like to remain in your house, if I am not permitted 
to see it !" " Oh, that is quite useless," she re- 
plied, " I am very sure that you have no vocation 
for our state ;" and with these words she immedi- 
ately shut her wicket.' Madame de Stael says she 
knows not how this nun discovered her worldly 
disposition, unless it were by her quick manner of 
speaking, so different from their own. Those who 
look at Madame de Stael's portrait, will not v/on- 
der at the nun's penetration : it needs but a single 
glance at her bright dark eye, through which one 
can look so clearly into the depths of an ardent 
and busy soul, to be convinced tha\ she was not 
made for the solitude and austerities of La Trappe. 
Being disappointed in getting a.sightof the nuns, 



68 MADAM C DE STALIL.. 

Madame de Statl proposed to her son and M. de 
Montmorency to go to the famous cascade of Bex, 
where the water falls from a very lofty mountain. 
This being just within the French territory, she, 
without being aware of it, infringed upon her sen- 
tence of exile. The prefect blamed her very 
much, and made a great merit of not informing the 
Emperor that she had been in France. She says 
she might have told him, in the words of La Fon- 
taine's fable, * I grazed of this meadow the breadth 
of my tongue.' Bonaparte, finding that Madame 
de Stael wisely resolved to be as happy as she 
could, determined to make her home a solitude, by 
forbidding all persons to visit her. 

Four days after M. de Montmorency arrived at 
Coppet, he was banislied from France ; for no 
other crime than having dared to offer the consola- 
tion of his society to one, who had been his intimate 
friend for more than twenty years, and by whose 
assistance he had escaped from the dangers of the 
Revolution. 

Madame Recamier, being at that time on her 
way to the waters of Aix in Savoy, sent her friend 
word that she should stop at Coppet. Madame de 
Stael despatched a courier to beseech her not to 
come ; and she wept bitterly, to think that her 
charming friend was so near her, without the pos- 
sibility of obtaining an interview : but Madame 
Recamier, conscious that she had never meddled 
with politics, was resolved not to pass by Coppet 
without seeing her. Instead of the joy that had 



MADAME DE STAEL. 69 

always welcomed her arrival, she was received 
with a torrent of tears. She staid only one night; 
but, as Madame de Stael had feared, the sentence 
of exile smote her also. ' Thus regardless,' says 
she, ' did the chief of the French people, so re- 
nowned for their gallantry, show himself toward 
the most beautiful woman in Paris. In one day 
he smote virtue and distinguished rank in M. de 
Montmorency, beauty in Madame Recamier, and, 
if I -are say it, the reputation of high talents in 
myself 

Not only Frenchmen, but foreigners, who wish- 
ed to visit a writer of so much celebrity, were in- 
formed that they must not enter her house. The 
minister of the police said he would have a soldier's 
guard mounted at the bottom of the avenue, to 
arrest whoever attempted to go to Coppet. 

Every courier brought tidings of some friend 
exiled for having dared to keep up a correspon- 
dence with her ; even her sons were forbidden 
to enter France, without a new permission from 
the police. In this cruel situation, Madame de 
Stael could only weep for those friends, who forsook 
her, and tremble for those, who had the courage 
to remain faithful. But nothing could force from 
her one line of flattery to the Empsror. 

Her friends urged her to go beyond the power 
of her enemy ; saying, ' If you remain, he will 
treat you as Elizabeth did Mary Stuart ; nineteen 
years of m sery, and the catastrophe at last.' And 
she herself says, ' Thus to carry about with me 
the contagion of calamity, to be a burden on the 



70 MADAME DESTAEL. 

existence of my children, to fear to write to those 
I love, or even to mention their names — this is a 
situation from which it is necessary to escape, or 
die.' 

But she hesitated, and lingered long before she 
determined to leave the tomb of her father, where 
she daily offered up her prayers for support and 
consolation. Besides, a new feeling had at this 
period gained dominion over her. At Geneva, 
she had become acquainted with Albert-Jean- 
Michel de Rocca, a young officer, just returned 
wounded from the war of the Spanish Peninsula, 
whose feeble health, united with the accounts 
given of his brilliant courage, had inspired general 
interest. Madame de Stael visited him, as a stran- 
ger who needed the soothing voice of kindness 
and compassion. The first v^'ords she uttered 
made him her ardent lover ; he talked of her in- 
cessantly. His friends represented to him the ex- 
trem.e improbability of gaining the affections of 
such a woman ; he rej.slied, ' I will love her so de^- 
votedly, that she crmnot refuse to marry me.' 

M. de Rocca had great elevation of character; 
his conversation was highly poetic ; his affections 
ardent ; and his style of writing animated and 
graceful :* his sentiments toward her were of the 
most romantic and chivalrous kind, — unbounded 

*ln 1809 he publi-hed Canvpagne de Walcheren et d'- 
Anvers. In 1814 he published a very interesting book, which 
was reprinted in 1817, called Memoire sur la guerre des 
Frangais en Espagne. He left a novel in MS. called Le 
Mai du pays ; I do not know whether it was ever printed. 



MAD A ME DE ST A EL 71 

admiration was softened by extreme tenderness ; 
her desolate heart had lost the guardian and sup- 
port of early life ; his state of health excited her 
pity ; and more than all, he offered to realize the 
dream she had always so fondly mdulged — a mar- 
riao-e of love. 

A strong and enduring attachment, sprung up be- 
tween them, which, in 1811, resulted in a private 
wedding. 

The world, of course, will be disposed to smile 
at this union; but for myself, I would much more 
willingly forget her first marriage than her last. 
One originated in policy, and made her miserable; 
the other was sanctioned only by her own warm 
heart, and made her happy. In all things depend- 
ing on themselves, the sunshine of their domestic 
love seems to have been without a shadow. 

The precarious state of M. de Rocca's health 
was a source of sorrow, which she felt with a 
keenness proportioned to the susceptibility of her 
charficter. She watched over him with a patient, 
persevering attention, not a little remarkable in one 
to whom variety and activity were so necessary. 
When he was thought to be in danger, her anguish 
knew no bounds : she compared herself to Mar- 
shal Ney, when he expected sentence of death 
from one moment to another. In relation to this 
romantic affair, Madame de Stael was guilty of the 
greatest weakness of her whole life. Governed part- 
ly by a timidity, which feared ' the world's dread 
laugh,' and partly by a proud reluctance to relin- 
quish the name she had made so glorious through- 



72 MADAME D E ST A EL, . 

out Europe, she concealed the marriage from all 
but her children, and her most intimate friends. 
On every account, this is to be eeeply regretted. 

^ It makes us blush for an nsta ic of silly vanity 
in one so truly great ; and what is worse, the embar- 
rassing situation in which she thus placed herself, 
laid her ve y open to the malice of her enemies, 
and the suspicions of the world. Scandalous 
stories promulgated by those, who either misunder- 
stood, or wilfully misrepresented her character, are 
even now repeated, though clearly proved to be false 
by those who had the very best opportunities of 
i_observing her life. 

In her preference for the conversation of gen- 
tlemen, Madame de Stael had ever been as per- 
fectly undisguised, as she was with regard to all her 
other tastes rnd opinions; it was therefore natural 
that she should not be a general favorite with her 

'^ own sex, though she found among women many of 
her most zealous and attached friends. 

The intellectual sympathy, which p -oduced so 
many delightful friendships between herself and dis- 
tinguished men of all countries, was naturally attri- 
buted, by ladies of inferior gifts, to a source less 
innocent ; and to this petty malice, was added strong 
political animoijity, dark, rancorous, unprincipled, 
and unforgiving. They even tried to make a crime 
of her residence in England, with Narbonne and 
Talleyrand — as if thos^e days of tenor, when 
every man, woman, and child in France slept under 
the guillotine, was a time for even the most scru- 
pulous to adhere to the laws of etiquette. 



MADAME D E S T A L: L . 73 

After her marriage with M. de Rocca, Madame 
de Stael, happy in the retirement of her now cheer- 
ful home, and finding consolation in the warm 
affection of her children, indulged hopes that the 
government would leave her in peace. But Bona- 
parte, who no doubt heard some sort of account of 
the new attachment, which had given a fresh charm 
to her existence, caused her to be threatened with 
perpetual imprisonment. 

Unable any longer to endure this system of vexa- 
tion, she asked leave to live in Ital), promising not 
to publish a single line of any kind ; and with some- 
thing of becoming pride, she reminded the officers 
of government that it was the author of Corinna, 
who asked no other privilege than to live and die 
in Home. But notwithstanding the strong claim 
which this beautiful work gave her to the admiration 
and indulgence of her countrymen, that request 
was refused. 

Napoleon, in one of his conversations at St 
Helena, excuses his uninterrup.ed persecution of 
Madame de Stael, by saying that, ' she was an am- 
bitious, intriguing woman, who would at any time 
have thrown her friends into the sea, for the sake 
of exercising her energy in saving them.' 

No doubt there was much truth in this accusa- 
tion. From her earliest childhood, Madame de 
Stael had breathed the atmosphere of politics ; and 
she lived at an exciting period, when an active 
mind could scarcely forbear taking great interest 



74 MADAME DE STAEL. 

in public affairs.* She was an avowed enemy to 
the imperial government ; bat, though she spoke 
her mind freely, we do not hear of her as engaged 
in any conspiracies, or even attempting to form a 
party. 

At her Swiss retreat, when he was omnipotent 
in France^ and she was powerless, it certainly was 
safe to leave her in the peaceful enjoyment of such 
social [)leasures as were within her reach. The 
banishment of M. de Schleo-el. M. de Montmo- 
rency, and Madame Recarnier, his refusal to allow 
Madame de Statl to pass into Italy, and his oppo- 
sition to her visiting England, seem much more 
like personal dislike and irritation against one, 
whom he could not compel to flatter him, than they 
do like political precaution : he indeed overrated 
Madame de Stall's importance, ifhe supposed she 
could change the whole policy of government, in a 
country where the national prejudices are so strongly 
arrayed against female politicians, as they are in 
England. 

Whatever were Bonaparte's motives and inten- 
tions, her friends thought it prudent to urge imme- 
diate flight; and she herself felt the necessity of it. 
But month after month passed away, during which 

* Bonaparte once at a party placed himself directly before 
a witty and beautiful lady, and said very abruptly, ' Madame, 
1 don't like that women should middle with politics.' — 
. *You are very right, General,' shg i-eplied ; 'but in a 
country where women are beheaded, it is natural they should 
desirs to know the reason.' 



MADAME DE STAEL. 75 

time she was distracted with the most painful per- 
plexity between her fears of a prison, and her dread 
of becoming a fugitive on the face of the earth. 
She says, ' I e-ometimes consulted all sorts of pre- 
sages, in hopes I should be directed what to do ; at 
other times, I moi^e wisely interrogated my friends 
and myself on the propriety of my departure. I am 
sure, that I put the patience of my friends to a se- 
vere test by my eternal discussions, and painful 
irresolution.' 

Two attempts were made to obtain passports for 
America; but, after compelling her to wait along 
time, the government refused to give them. 

At one time she thought of going to Greece, by 
the route of Constantinople ; but she feared to ex- 
pose her daughter to the perils of such a voyage. 
Her next object was to reach England through the 
circuitous route of Russia and Sweden; but in 
this great undertaking, her heart failed her. Hav- 
ing a bold imagination, and a timid character, she 
conjured up the phantoms of ten thousand dangers. 
She was afraid of robbers, of arrest, of prisons, — 
and more than all, she was afraid of being adver- 
tised, in the newspapers, with all the scandalous 
falsehoods her enemies might think proper to invent. 
She said truly that she had to contend with an 
* enemy with a million of soldiers, millions of reven- 
nue, all the prisons of Europe, kings for his jailers, 
and the press for his mouth -piece ' But the time 
at last came when the pressure of circumstances 
would no longer admit of delay. Bonaparte was 



76 M ADAM E DE STAE L. 

preparing for his Russian campaign, and she must 
either precede the French troops, or abandon her 
project entirely. 

The 15th of May, 1812, was at last fixed upon 
for departure ; and all the necessary arrange- 
ments were made with profound secrecy. When 
the day arrived, the uncertainty she felt seemed to 
her like a consciousness of being about to do some- 
thing wTong ; she thought she ought to yield her- 
self u}) to such events as Providence ordained, and 
that thf)se pious men were in the right, who always 
scrupled to follow an impulse originating in their 
own free will. She says, ' Agitated by these con- 
flicting feelings, I wandered over the park at Cop- 
pet ; I seated myself in all the places where my 
fatlier had been accustomed to repose liimself, and 
contemplate nature ; 1 looked once more upon the 
beauties of water and verdure, which we had so 
often admired together ; I bade them adieu, and 
recommended myself to their sweet influences. 
The monument that incloses the ashes of my fath- 
er and my mother, and in which, if God permits, 
my own will be deposited, was one of the principal 
causes of regret T felt at banishing myself from the 
home of my childhood ; but on approaching it, I 
almost always found strength, that seemed to me to 
come from heaven. I passed an hour in prayer 
before the iron gate, which inclosed the mortal 
remains of the noblest of human beings ; and my 
soul was convinced of the necessity of departure. 
I went once more to look at my father's study, 



M A I) A M E D E S T A E L . 77 

where his easy-chair, his table, and his papers, re- 
mained as he had left them : •! kissed each vener- 
ated mark ; I took the cloik, which till then I had 
ordered to be left upon his chair, and carried it 
away with me, that I might wrap myself up in it, 
should the messenger of death approach me. When 
these adieus were terminated, I avoided as much 
as I could all other farewells ; I found it less pain- 
ful to part from my friends by letters, which I took 
care they should not receive until several days after 
my departure. 

' On Saturday, the 2M of May, 1812, I got into 
my carriage, saying that I should return to dinner. 
I took no packet whatever : I and my daughter 
had only our fans. My son and M. de Rocca car- 
ried in their pockets enough to defray the expenses 
of several days' journey. On leaving the chateau, 
which had become to me like an old and valued 
friend, I nearly fainted : my son took my hand, 
and said, " Dear mother, remember you are on your 
way to England." Though nearly two thousand 
leagues from that goal, to which the usual road 
would have so speedily conducted me, I felt revived 
by his words ; every step at least brought me some- 
thing nearer to it. When I had proceeded a few 
leagues, I sent back one of my servants to apprize 
my establishment that I should not return until the 
next day. I continued travelling night and day as 
far as a farm-house beyond Berne, where I had 
agreed to meet M. de Schlegel, who had kindly 
offered to accompany me. Here I was obliged to 



78 MADAME DE STAEL. 

leave my eldest son, who for fourteen years had 
been educated by my father, and whose features 
strongly reminded me of him. Again my courage 
abandoned me. I thought of Switzerland, so 
tranquil, and so beautiful ; I thought of her inhabit- 
ants, who, though they had lost political indepen- 
dence, knew how to be free by their virtues ; and 
it seejned 10 me as if everything told me I ought 
not to go. I had not yet crossed the barrier — there 
was still a possibility of retarninix. But if I went 
back, I knew another escape \\ould be impossible ; 
and 1 felt a sort of shame at the idea of renewing 
such solemn farevvelfs. I knew not what would 
have become of me, if this uncertainty had lasted 
much longer. My children decided me; especial- 
ly my daughter, who was then scarcely fourteen 
years old. I committed myself to her, as if the 
voice of God had spoken by the mouth of a child. 
My son took his leave ; and when he was out of 
sight, I could say, with Lord Russell, " The bitter- 
ness of death is past." ' 

The young Baron de Stael had been obliged to 
Jeave his mother, in order to attend to the interests 
of her fortune, and to obtain passports to go through 
Austria, one of whose princesses was then the wife 
of Na|)oleon. Everything depended on obtaining 
these passports, under some name that would not 
attract the attention of the police; if they were 
refused, Madame de Statl would be arrested, and 
the rigors of exile made more intolerable than ever. 
It was a decisive ^step, and one that caused her 



M A D A !\1 E DE ST A E L. 79 

devoted son the most painful anxiety. Finally, he 
concluded to act, as he judiciously observes all hon- 
est men had better do in their intercourse with each 
other, — he threw himself directly upon the gene- 
rosity of the Austrian ambassador ; and fortunately 
he had to deal wdth an honorable man, who made 
no hesitation in granting his request. 

A few days after, Madame de Stael's younger 
son, w^ith her servants, wardrobe, and travelling 
carriage, set out from Coppet, to meet bis mother 
at Vienna. The whole had been managed wdth 
such secrecy, and the police had become so accus- 
tomed to her quiet way of life, that no suspicions 
were excited, until this second removal took place. 
The gens-iU amies were instantly on the alert ; but 
Madame de Stael had too much the start of them, 
and had travelled too swiftly to be overtaken. In 
describing her flight, she says, ' The moment I 
most dreaded was the passage from Bavaria to 
Austria ; for it was there a courier might precede 
me, and forbid me to pass. But notwithstanding 
my apprehensions, my health had been so much 
injured by anxiety and fatigue, that I could no 
longer travel all night. I, however, flattered my- 
self that I should arrive without impediment ; when, 
just as my fears were vanishing, as we approached 
the boundary line, a man in the inn, at Saltzburg, 
told M. de Schlecrel that a French courier had been 
to inquire for a carriage coming from Inspruck, 
with a lady and a young girl ; and had left word 
that he w^ould return to get intelligence of them. 



80 MADAMEDESTAEL. 

I became pale with terror ; and M. de Schlegel 
was very much alarmed ; especially as he found by 
inquiry that the courier had been waiting for meat 
the Austrian frontier, and not finding me there', 
had returned to meet me. This was just what I 
had dreaded before my departure, and through the 
whole journey. I determined, on the spur of the 
moment, to leave M. de Schlegel and my daughter 
at the inn, and to go on foot into the streets of the 
town, to take my chance at the first house whose 
master, or mistress, had a physiognomy that pleased 
me. I would remain in this asylum a few days ; 
during this time, M. de Schlegel and my daughter 
might say that they were going to rejoin me in 
Austria ; and I would afterward leave Saltzburg, 
disguised as a peasant. Hazardous as this resource 
appeared, no other remained ; and I was just pre- 
parinsj for the task, with fear and trembling, when 
who should enter my apartment but this dreaded 
courier, vi'ho was no other than — M. de Rocca ! 

He had been obliged to return to Geneva to 
transact some business, and now came to rejoin' 
me. He had disguised himself as a courier, in 
order to take advantage of the terror which the 
name inspired, and to obtain horses more quickly. 
He had hurried on to the Austrian frontier, to make 
himself sure that no one had preceded, or announc- 
ed me ; he had returned to assure me that I had 
nothing to fear, and to get upon the box of my 
carriage until we had passed that dreaded frontier, 
which seemed to me the last of my dangers. In 



M A D A M E D E S T A E L . 81 

this manner were my fears changed to gratitude, 
joy, and confidence.' 

At Vienna, Madame de Stael was obliged to wait 
some time for a Russian passport. The first ten 
days w^ere spent very pleasantly, and her friends 
there assured her that she might rest in perfect 
security. At the end of that time, the Austrian 
police probably received directions concerning her 
from Napoleon ; for they placed a guard at the 
gate of her house, and, whether she walked or rode, 
she was followed by spies. 

She was at this time in a state of great uneasi- 
ness ; for unless her Russian passport came speedily, 
the progress of the war would prevent her from 
passing into that country ; and she dared not stay 
in Vienna a day after the French ambassador, 
(v.'ho was then at Dresden,) had returned. Again 
she thought of Constantinople. She tried to obtain 
two passports to leave Austria, either by Hungary 
or Gallicia, so that she might decide in favor of 
going to Petersburg or Constantinople according to 
circumstances. She w^as told she might have her 
choice of passports, but that they could not enable 
her to go by two different frontiers without authori- 
ty from the Committee of States. She says, ' Eu- 
rope seemed to her like one great net, in w^hich 
travellers got entangled at every step.' 

She departed for Gallicia without her Russian 

passport ;" a friend having promised to travel night 

and day to bring it to her, as soon as it arrived. 

At every step of her journey she encountered fresh 

6 



82 MADAME DE STAEL. 

difficulties from the police^ all of which it would 
be tedious to relate. Placards were put up in all 
the towns to keep a strict watch upon her as she 
passed through : this was the distinction the Aus- 
trians conferred upon a woman, who has done more 
than any other mortal to give foreigners a respect 
for German literature, and German character. 

In passing through Poland, Madame de Stael 
wished to rest a day or two at Lanzut, at the castle 
of the Polish Prince and Princess, Lubomirska, 
with whom she had been well acquainted in Geneva, 
and during her visit to Vienna. The captain of the 
police, jealous that she intended to excite the Poles 
to insurrection, sent a detachment to escort her 
into Lanzut, to follow her into the castle, and not 
leave her until she quitted it. Accordingly the 
officer stationed himself at the supper-table of the 
Prince, and in the evening took occasion to observe 
to her son that he had orders to pass the night in 
her apartment, to prevent her holding communica- 
tion with any one ; but that, out of respect to her, 
he should not do it. ' You may as well say that 
you will not do it, out of respect to yourself,' repli- 
ed the young man : ' for if you dare to set foot 
within my mother's apartment, I will assuredly 
throw you out of the window.' 

The escort of the police was particularly painful 
to Madame de Stael at this point of her journey. 
A description of M. de Rocca had been sent along 
the road, with orders to arrest him as a French 
officer ; although he had resigned his commission, 



MADAME DE STAEL. 83 

and was disabled by his wound from doing military 
service. Had he been arrested, the forfeiture of 
his life would have been the consequence. He had 
therefore been obliged to separate from his wife, 
at a time when he felt most anxious to protect her ; 
and to travel alone under a borrowed name. It had 
been arranged that they should meet at Lanzut, 
from which place they hoped to be able to pass 
safely into Russia. Having arrived there before 
her, and not in the least suspecting that she would 
be guarded by the police, he eagerly came out to 
meet her, full of joy and confidence. The danger, 
to which he thus unconsciously exposed himself, 
made Madame de Stael pale with agony. She 
had scarcely time to give him an earnest signal to 
turn back. Had it not been for the generous pres- 
ence of mind of a Polish gentleman, M. de Rocca 
would have been recognised and arrested. 

The fugitive experienced the greatest friendship 
and hospitality from the Prince and Princess Lu- 
bormirska ; but notwithstanding their urgent en- 
treaties, she would not consent to encumber their 
house with such attendants as chose to follow her. 
After one night's rest, she departed for Russia, 
which she entered on the 14th of July. As she 
passed the boundary-line, she made a solemn oath 
never again to set foot in a country subjected in 
any degree to the Emperor Napoleon; though she 
says she felt some sad misgivings that the oath 
would never allow her to revisit her own beautiful 
and beloved France. 



84 MADAME DE STAEL. 

Madame de Stael staid but a brief space in Mos- 
cow ; the flames and the French array followed 
close upon her footsteps. 

At Petersburg she had several interviews with 
the Emperor Alexander, whose affairs were then at 
a most alarming crisis.* She remarks of Russia, 
* The country appeared to me like an image of in- 
finite space, and as if it v^ould require an eternity 
to traverse it. The Sclavonian language is sin- 
gularly echoing; there is something metallic about 
it; you would imagine you heard a bell striking, 
when the Russians pronounce certain letters of 
their alphabet.' 

The nobility of Petersburg vied with each other 
in the attentions bestowed on Madame de Stael. 
At a dinner given in honor of her arrival, the fol- 
lowing toast was proposed : ' Success to the arms 
of Russia against France.' The exile, dearly loved 
her country, and her heart could not respond to the 
sentiment : ' Not against France ! ' she exclaim- 
ed ; ^ but against him who oppresses France.' 
The toast thus changed was repeated with great 
applause. 

Although Madame de Stael found much in 
Russia to interest her, and was everywhere received 
with distinguished regard, she did not feel in perfect 
security ; she could not look on the magnificent 

* In a conversation concerning the structure of govern- 
ments, Madame de Stael said to the Emperor, 'Sire, you 
are yourself a constitution for your country.' ' Then, mad- 
am, I am but a lucky accident j' was his wise reply to her 
delicate and comprehensive flattery. 



MADAME DE STA EL. 85 

edifices of that splendid capital, without dismal 
forebodings, that he, whose power had overshadowed 
all the fair dwellings of Europe, would come to 
darken them also. 

In September, she passed through Finland into 
Sweden. In Stockholm she published a work 
against Suicide, written before her flight from Cop- 
pet. The object of this Treatise is to show that the 
natural and proper effect of affliction is to elevate 
and purify the soul, instead of driving it to despair. 
She is said to have been induced to make this 
publication by the fear that she had, in some of her 
former writings, evinced too much admiration for 
this guilty form of courage. 

In Sweden, as in Russia, Madame de Stael was 
received with very marked respect. It was gener- 
ally supposed that she exerted a powerful influence 
over Bernadotte, to induce him to resist the en- 
croachments of Napoleon's ambition. If this be 
the case^ she may be said to have fairly check-ma- 
ted the Emperor with a king of his own making. 
Though Bernadotte had great respect for her opin- 
ions, she is said not to have been a favorite with 
him : he was himself fond of making eloquent 
speeches, and her conversation threw' him into the 
shade. 

Madame de Stael passed the winter of 1812 on 
the shores of the Baltic, and in the spring she 
sailed for England; where she arrived in June, 
1813. Although her dramatic style of manners, 
and the energy of her conversation, formed a strik- 
ing contrast to the national reserve of the English, 



86 MADAME DE STAEL. 

she was received with enthusiastic admiration: 
Her genius, her fame, her escape from Bonaparte, 
and her intimate knowledge of the French Revo- 
lution, all combined to produce a prodigious sen- 
sation. ' In the immense crowds that collected 
to see her at the Marquis of Lansdowne's, and 
in the houses of the other principal nobility of 
London, the eagerness of curiosity broke through 
all restraint ; the first ladies in the kingdom stood 
on chairs and tables, to catch a glimpse of her 
dark and brilliant physiognomy.' 

Madame de Stael has left some admirable de- 
scriptions of English society, and of the impressions 
made upon her mind, when she first entered that 
powerful country. But the principal object of her 
visit was not to observe the intellectual wealth, or 
moral grandeur, of England. — Through all her 
perils and wanderings she had saved a copy of her 
condemned book on Germany, and had brought it 
triumphantly to London, where it was published in 
October, 1813. 

^ In this, which is perhaps her greatest work, 
Madame de Stael has endeavoured to give a bold, 
general, and philosophical view of the whole intel- 
lectual condition of the German people, among 
whom she had made what was in some sort a voy- 
age of discovery ; for the highly original literature 
of that country was then little known to the rest of 
Europe.' It was received with great applause in 
England, and afterward in France, where a change 
of government admitted of its being published the 
ensuing year. Sir James Mackintosh immediately 



MADAME DE STAEL. 87 

wrote a review of it, in which he says, ' The voice 
of Europe had already applauded the genius of a 
national painter in the author of Corinna. — In her 
Germany, she throws off the aid of fiction ; she 
delineates a less poetical character, and a country 
more interesting by anticipation than by recollec- 
tion. But it is not the less certain that it is the 
most vigorous effort of her genius, and probably 
the most elaborate and masculine production of the 
faculties of woman.' 

Simond says, ' The main defect in her mode of 
composition, perhaps the only one, is an excessive 
ambition of eloquence. The mind finds no rest 
anywhere ; every sentence is replete with meaning, 
fully freighted with philosophy, and with wit, some- 
times indeed over-laden ; no careless expression 
ever escapes her ; no redundancy amid so much 
exuberance : if you had to make an abstract of 
what she wrote, although you might wish to render 
it clearer and simpler, you would scarcely know 
what to strike off, or how to clothe the thoughts in 
more compendious language ; so harmonious and 
so strong is hers. Yet she could compose in com- 
pany, and write while conversing.' 

But the fault most commonly found with Madame 
de Stael's books, and which will probably always 
prevent their being very popular with general read- 
ers, is obscurity. We never for a moment suspect 
her of vagueness ; we know there is a meaning, 
when we cannot perceive it. As Lady Morgan 
says, ' There is in her compositions something of 
the Delphic priestess. They have the energy of 



88 MADAME DE STAEL. 

inspiration, and the disorder. Sometimes mystic, 
not always intelligible, we still blame the god rath- 
er than the oracle, and wish she were less inspired, 
or we more intelligent.' 

When Madame de Stael made her visit to Eng- 
land, Lord Byron was in the first lustre of his fame : 
V he had not then sunk into that depth of moral deg- 
radation, which afterward made his genius the hot- 
breathing of a curse upon a world that worshipped 
him. At first, the rival lions seem to have been 
disposed to growl at each other. The following 
extracts from Byron's letters and journal give a 
vivid picture of the terms on which they stood : 

St James's, July 8, 1813. 

* Rogers is out of town with Madame de Stael, 
who hath published an essay against suicide, 
which, I presume, will make somebody shoot him- 
self.' 

July 13, 1813. 

' P. S. The Stael last night attacked me most 
furiously — said that I had no right to make love — 
that I had used * * * barbarously — that I had 
no feeling, and was totally insensible to la belle pas- 
sion, and bad been all my life. I am very glad to 
hear it ; but I did not know it before.' 

While Madame de Stael was in England she was 
deeply afflicted by the news of the death of her 
youngest son. Byron alludes to this event in an off- 
hand style, and judges her by rules that apply re- 
markably well to his own character. 



AIADAME DE STAEL. 89 

August 22, 1813. 
' Madame de Stael Holstein has losfone of her 
young barons, who has been carbonadoed by a vile 
Teutonic adjutant — kilt and killed in a coffee- 
house at Scrawsenhawsen. Corinna is, of course, 
what all mothers must be, — but will, I venture to 
prophesy, do what few mothers could — write an 
essay upon it. She cannot exist without a griev- 
ance — and somebody to see or read how much 
grief becomes her. I have not seen her since the 
event ; but merely judge (not very charitably) from 
prior observation.' 

Nov. 16. 

' Today received Lord Jersey's invitation to 
Middleton — to travel sixty miles to meet Madame 
* * * ! I once travelled three thousand to get 
among silent people ; and this same lady writes oc- 
tavos, and talks folios. I have read all her books — 
like most of them, and delight in the last; sol 
won't hear as well as read.' 

Nov. 17. 
' At Lord Holland's I was trying to recollect a 
quotation (as I think) of Stael's, from some Teu- 
tonic sophist about architecture. " Architecture re- 
minds me of frozen music," says this Macaronico 
Tedescho. It is somewhere — but where ? The 
demon of perplexity must know, and won't tell. I 

asked M and he said it was not hers ; but 

P r said it must be hers, it was so UkeJ 



y 



90 MADAME DE STAEL. 

~ , Nov. 30. 

* Received a very pretty billet from M. la Barronne 
de Stael Holstein. She is pleased to be much 
pleased with my mention of her last vv^ork in my 
notes.* I spoke as I thought — Her w^orks are my 
delight, and so is she herself, for — half an hour. 
She is a woman by herself, and has done more 
than all the rest of them together, intellectually. — 
She ought to have been a man. She flatters me 
very prettily in her note ; but I knojo it. The rea- 
son that adulation is not displeasing is, that, though 
untrue, it shows one to be of consequence enough, 
in one way or other, to induce people to lie, to make 
us their friend : — that is their concern.' 

Dec. 5. 
' Asked for Wednesday to dine at Lord Holland's 
and meet the Stael : asked particularly, I believe, 
out of mischief to see the first interview after my 
answer to her note, with which Corinna professes 
herself to be so much taken. I don't much like it 
— she always talks of mi/self, or herself, and I am 
not, (except in soliloquy, as now) much enamour- 
ed of either subject — especially one's works. 

What the shall I say about Germany ! I like 

it prodigiously. I read her again and again, and 

there can be no affectation in this ; but unless I 

can twist my admiration into some fantastical ex- 

j pression, she won't believe me ; and I know by ex- 

* Byron, in his notes to the Bride of Abydos, then just pub- 
lished, called her the first female writer of this, perhapsof 
any age. 



MADAME DE STAEL. 91 

perience I shall be overwhelmed with fine things 
about rhyme^ &lc, 6lc. 

Dec. 7. 

' This morning received a very pretty billet from 
the Stael, about meeting her at Lord Holland's 
tomorrow. I dare say she has written twenty 
such to different people, all equally flattering. So 
much the better for her, and for those who believe 
all she wishes them, or all they wish to believe. 
Her being pleased with my slight eulogy is to be 
accounted for in several ways. Firstly, all women 
like all or any praise ; secondly, this was unexpect- 
ed, because I have never courted her ; thirdly, 
those who have all their lives long been praised by 
regular critics, like a little variety, and are glad 
when any one goes out of his way to say a civil 
thing ; and fourthly, she is a very good-natured 
creature, which is the best reason, after all, and 
perhaps the only one.' 

Dec 10. 

* Dined at Lord Holland's on Wednesday. The 
Stael was at the other end of the table, and less 
loquacious than heretofore. We are now very good 
friends ; though she asked Lady Melbourne whether 
I really had any honJiommie. She might as well, 
have asked that question before she told C. L. 
' Oest un demon.' True enough, but rather prema- 
ture ; for she could not have found it out.' 

Dec. 12. 

* All the world are to be at the Stael' s to-night. 



v/ 



92 MADAMEDESTAiilL. 

and I am not sorry to escape any part of it. I only 
go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.' 

Jan. 11, 1814. 
TO MR MURRAY. 

' I do not love Madame de Stael, but depend 
upon it, she beats all your natives hollow as an au- 
thoress ; and I vv^ould not say this if I could help it.' 

Jan. 16. 

' Lewis has been squabbling with Madame de 
Stael about Clarissa Harlowe, Mackintosh, and me. 
My homage has never been paid in that quarter, 
or we should have agreed still worse. I don't talk 
— I can't flatter — and I won't listen. Poor Co- 
rinne, she will find some of her fine speeches will 
not suit our fine ladies and gentlemen.' 

Feb. 18, 1814. 

' More notes from Madame de * * unanswered — 
and so they shall remain. I admire her abilities, 
but really her society is overwhelming — an ava- 
lanche that buries one in glittering nonsense — all 
snow and sophistry. ' 

March 6. 

' Dined with Rogers. Madame de Stael, Mack- 
intosh, Sheridan, Erskjne, &c, there. Sheridan 
told a very good story of himself and Madame 
Recamier's handerchief. She says she is going to 
write a bjg book about England — I believe her. 
We got up from table too soon after the women ; 
and Mrs Corinne always lingers so long after dinner, 
that we wish her in — the drawing-room.' 



MADAME DE ST A EL. 93 

Jtjxe, 19, 1814. 

. ' The Stael out-talked Whitbread, was ironed 
by Sheridan, confounded Sir Humphry, and ut- 
terly perplexed your slave. The rest (great names 
in the red book, nevertheless) were mere segments 

of the circle. Mademoiselle * danced a Russ 

saraband with great vigor, grace, and expression.' 

The respect and admiration with which Madame 
de Stael was received by the best society in England 
was rather increased than diminished during her 
residence there. She had now been in most of the 
capitals of Europe, and in all of them had received 
a degree of homage never before paid to any wo- 
man who was not a queen. But all these flattering 
distinctions could not wean her affections from 
her beloved Paris. In the midst of the most daz- 
zling triumphs of her genius, her heart turned fondly 
toward France, and she was watching v/ith intense 
anxiety the progress of those great political move- 
ments, which afterward restored her to her country. 
Immediately after the entrance of the Allied Army 
into Paris, and the consequent abdication of Bona- 
parte, Madame de Stael returned to her native land. 
Notwithstanding the pain it gave her to see her 
country filled with foreign troops, she felt the joy of 
an exile restored to her home. She immediately 
resumed her high place in society: and the accu- 

* Probably Mademoiselle de Stael, afterward Duchess ds 
Bro^lie. 



94 MADAME DE STAEL 

mulation of fame she brought with her threw ad- 
ditional brilliancy around a name, which had so 
long been illustrious. Louis XVIII. took great de- 
light in her conversation. He caused to be paid 
from the royal treasury the two millions of francs, 
that M. Necker had loaned to Louis XVI. 

A circumstance which occurred at this period 
of her life is remarkably interesting. A project 
was on foot to assassinate Napoleon ; and men were 
sent to Elba for that purpose. Madame de Stael, 
from her well-known dislike to the Emperor, and 
her acquaintance with political men of all parties, 
was the first one to whom the secret was confided. 
Accompanied by Talma, she immediately sought 
an interview with Joseph Bonaparte, informed him 
of his brother's danger, and even proposed to go to 
Elba in person. A patriotic friend, whose name 
is not yet revealed to the public, undertook the haz- 
ardous mission — he arrived in time, so that the 
two first who landed were arrested, and Bonaparte 
was saved. 

Madame de Stael passed the winters of 1814 
and '15 in Paris, receiving the universal homage 
of the great men, then collected there from all parts 
of the world. But the shadow of her old and in- 
veterate enemy was suddenly thrown across this 
bright spot in her existence. On the 6th of March, 
1815, Bonaparte suddenly landed in France. 
When Madame de Stael heard the tidings, she 
says, it seemed as if the earth had yawned under 
her feet. She had sufficient knowledge of the 



MADAME DE ST AEL. 95 

French people to conjecture what reception Napo- 
leon would meet ; and having made a farewell visit 
to the king, with a heavy heart she returned to 
Coppet. 

Bonaparte, anxious to rebuild the power his own 
madness had overthrown, was particularly desirous 
to gain the confidence of the friends of rational 
liberty ; and among these his former persecution 
had shown of what consequence he considered 
Madame de Stael. He sent his brother Joseph 
with a request that she would come to Paris and 
give him her advice about framing a constitutional 
government. With a consistency very rare in those 
days of rapid political changes, she replied, ' Tell 
the Emperor that for twelve years he has done with- 
out me or a constitution ; and I believe that he has 
as little regard for the one as he has for the other.' 

Bonaparte gave O'Meara a very different ac- 
count. He says, ' I was obliged to banish Mad- 
ame de Stael from court.* At Geneva she became 
very intimate with my brother Joseph, whom she 
gained by her conversation and writings. When I 
returned from Elba she sent her son to ask payment 
of two millions, which her father had lent out of 
his private property to Louis XVI. and to offer her 
services provided I complied with her request. I 
refused to see him ; thinking I could not grant what 
he wished without ill-treatinor others in a similar 

* A gentle and comprehensive description of his system 
of petty persecutions! 



96 MADAM EDE ST A EL. 

predicament. However, Joseph would not be re- 
fused, and brought him in ; the attendants not lik- 
ing to deny my brother. I received him politely, 
and told him I was very sorry I could not comply 
with his request, as it was contrary to the laws. 
Madame de Stael then wrote along letter to Fouche 
stating her claims, in which she said she wanted 
the money to portion her daughter in marriage to 
the Due de Broglie, promising that if I complied 
with her request, I might command her and hers; 
that she wouldhe black and white for me. Fouche 
urged me to comply, saying that at so critical a time 
she might be of considerable service. I answered 
that I would make no bargains.' 

It is impossible that the above statement should 
be true. In the first place, we have more reason 
to place confidence in the veracity of the open- 
hearted Madame de Stael, than we have in the 
word of Napoleon, who seldom used language for 
any other purpose than to conceal his thoughts ; 
secondly, in the beginning of his reign he did offer' 
to pay those very two millions, if she would favor 
his government, and at the very time of which 
O'Meara speaks, he again offered to do it ; thirdly, 
it is notorious that after his return from Elba he 
was extremely anxious to conciliate his enemies ; 
and lastly, the history of his vv'hole intriguing life 
makes us laugh at the pretence that he u'as incapa- 
ble of making bargains. 

At the close of the memorable Hundred Days, 
Bonaparte was a second time compelled to abdicate ; 



MADAME DE STAEL. 97 

and Madame de Stael would have immediately re- 
turned to Paris, had she not felt such a painful 
sense of degradation in seeing the throne of France 
supported by a standing army of foreign troops : 
her national pride could not brook the disgrace of 
witnessing her country in the leading-strings of the 
Allied Powers J Fraiice thus situated, was in her 
eyes no longer ' the great nation.' 

She remained at Coppet during the summer ,^of 

1815 ; but having fresh cause of alarm for the 
health of her husband, who had never recovered 
from the effects of his vv^ound, she revisited Italy, 
where they passed the winter. In the spring of 

1816 they returned to Coppet. 

Lord Byron, who had then left England, in high 
indignation at the odium he had brought upon him- 
self, passed through Switzerland, during this year, 
in his way to Italy. Notwithstanding his former 
want of cordiality toward Madame de Stael, and 
his personal unpopularity at this period, he was 
received by her with a kindness and hospitality, he 
had not hoped to meet, and which affected him 
deeply. Y/ith her usual frankness, she blamed him 
for his conduct to Lady Syron ; and by her persua- 
sive eloquence prevailed upon him to write to a 
friend in England expressing a wish to be reconcil- 
ed to his wife. In the letters he wrote, during the 
few summer months he staid in Switzerland, he 
often speaks of Coppet and its inhabitants. He 
says, ' Madame de Stael wishes to see the Anti- 
quary, and I am going to take it to her tomorrow. 
7 



98 MADAME DE STAEL. 

She has made Coppet as agreeable to me as society 
and talent can make any place on earth. Bon- 
stetteu is there a good deal. He is a fine, lively old 
man, and much esteemed by his compatriots. All 
there are well, excepting Rocca, who. I am sorry to 
say, looks in a very bad state of health. Schlegel 
is in high force, and Madame de Staei is as brilliant 
as ever.' Of the Duchess de Broglie, Byron spoke 
in very high terms ; and in noticing her attachment 
to her husband, he remarked that, 'Nothing was 
more pleasing than to see the development of the 
domestic affections in a very young woman.' What 
a pity that virtue was not to him something more 
than a mere abstract idea of poetic beauty ! 

When it became evident that the Allied Powers 
did not mean to dictate the measures of the French 
government, Madame de Stail was again strongly 
tempted by the allurements of Paris. She return- 
ed once more, to become the leading-star in the 
most brilliant society in the world. ' Every even- 
ing her saloon was crowded with all that was dis- 
tinguished and powerful, not in France only, but 
in all Europe, which was then represented in Paris 
by a remarkable number of its most extraordinary 
men. Madame de Stael had, to a degree perhaps 
never possessed by any other person, the rare 
talent of uniting around her the most distinguished 
individuals of all the opposite parties, literary and 
political, and making them establish relations among 
themselves, which they could not afterward entirely 
shake off. There misrht be found Wellinston and 



MADAME DE STAEL. 99 

Lafayette, Chateaubriand, Talleyrand, and Prince 
Laval ; Humboldt and Blucher from Berlin ; Con- 
stant and Sismondi from Switzerland ; the two 
Schlegels from Hanover ; Canova from Italy ; the 
beautiful Madame Recamier, and the admirable 
Duchess de Duras : and from England, such a mul- 
titude, that it seemed like a general emigration of 
British talent and rank.' 

It was iu conversation with men like these, that 
Madame de Stael shone in the fulness of her splen- 
dor. Much as we may admire her writings, in 
which she has so gracefully blended masculine 
vigor with female vivacity and enthusiasm, we 
cannot reahze the vividness of her fame, like those 
who saw her genius flashing and sparkling in quick 
collision with kindred minds. In powers of conver- 
sation she was probably gifted beyond any other 
human being. Madame Tesse declared, ' if she 
were a queen, she would order Z\Iadame de Stael to 
talk to her always.' — Simond says, -' That ambition 
of eloquence, so conspicuous in her writings, was 
much less observable in her conversation ; there 
was more abandon in v.iiat she said, than in what 
she wrote ; while speaking, the spontaneous inspi- 
ration was no labor, but all pleasure ; conscious of 
extraordinary powers, she gave herself up to the 
present enjoyment of the good things, and the deep 
things flowing, in a full stream from her own well- 
stored and luxuriant fancy. The inspiration Vv^as 
pleasure — the pleasure was inspiration ; and with- 
out precisely intending it, ^he was every eveninjof 



100 MADAME DE STAiiL. 

her life, in a circle of company, the very Corinne 
she had depicted. It must not, however, be sup- 
posed that, engrossed by her own self-gratification, 
Madame de Stael was inattentive to the feelings of 
others ; she listened very willingly, enjoyed, and 
applauded ; she did more, often provoking a reply, 
and endeavoring to place her hearers in a situation 
to have their turn. "What Ao you think?" she 
would say with eager good-nature, in the very 
middle of her triumph, that you also might have 
yours. Upon the whole, Madame de Stael's hon" 
Jiommie was still more striking than her talents.' 
Madame de Saussure tells us that ' no one could 
understand the full measure of her power, except 
those who knew her in the intimacy of friendship. 
Her most beautiful writings, her most eloquent re- 
marks in society, were far from equalling the fascina- 
tion of her conversation, w hen she threw off the 
constraint of conforming to various characters, and 
talked unreservedly to one she loved. She then gave 
herself up to an inspiration, v/hich seemed to ex- 
ercise as supernatural an effect upon herself, as it did 
upon others. Whether the power was exerted for 
good or evil, it seemed to come from a source over 
which she had no control. Sometimes, in the 
bitterness of her spirit, she at one breath withered 
all the flowers of life, and probing the heart with red- 
hot iron, destroyed all the illusions of sentiment, all 
the charm of the dearest relations. Presently, she 
would yield to the control of gayety, singularly 
original in its character : it had all the graceful 



MADAME DE STAEL. 101 

candor and winning credulity of a little child, who 
is a dupe to everything. Then she would abandon 
herself to a sublime melancholy, a religious fervor, 
acknowledging the utter emptiness of all this world 
can bestow.' 

The winter months at the close of 1816, and the 
beginning of 1817, were passed by Madame de 
Stael in Paris. This was the most splendid scene 
in the gorgeous drama of her life — and it was the 
last. ' The great exertions she made, evening 
after evening, in the important political discussions 
that were carried on in her saloon, — the labors of 
the morning in writing almost continually some- 
thing suited to the wants of the moment, for the 
Mercury, and other periodicals, — while at the 
same time, the serious labor of her great work on 
the French Revolution was still pressing on her, — 
all these together were too much for her strength.' 
Contrary to the advice of the physicians, she per- 
sisted in using opium, to which she had for some 
time resorted to stimulate her exhausted frame ; but 
nature was worn out, and no artificial means could 
restore its vigor. A violent fever, obviously the 
effect of the excitement under which she had so 
long lived, seized her in February. By the use of 
excessively violent means, it was thrown off; 
but though the disease was gone, her constitution 
was broken up. Life passed at first insensibly from 
the extremities, and then no less slowly retired 
from the more vital organs. In general, she suffer- 
ed little, and her faculties remained in unclouded 



102 MADAME DE STAEL. 

brightness to the last. The interest excited by her 
situation proved the affection she had inspired, and 
of what consequence her life v/as accounted to her 
country. Every day some of the royal family were 
anxiously inquiring at the door, and every day the 
Duke of Wellington came in person to ask if there 
was no hope. Her most intimate friends (who have 
been often mentioned in the course of this memoir) 
were admitted into her sick chamber. She convers- 
ed upon all the subjects that were introduced, and 
took an interest in them all. If her conversation 
at this period had less than her usual animation, it 
is said to have had more of richness and depth,, 
The deadly paleness of her foRtures formed a touch- 
ing contrast with the dazzling intelligence, which 
never deserted her expressive countenance. Her 
friends placed a double value on every remark she 
uttered, and treasured it in their inmost hearts as 
one of the last efforts of her wonderful mind. Some 
of them indulged the hope that she might recover ; 
but she knew from the first that the work of death 
was begun. At one time, owing to a high nervous 
excitement, produced by the progress of her disease, 
the thought of dissolution was terrible to her. — 
She mourned over the talents that had made her 
life so brilliant ; over the rank and influence, that 
she could so usefully exercise ; over her children, 
whose success in the world was just then begin- 
ning to gratify all her affection and pride ; until 
those who listened to her trembled at the heart- 
rending energy, which her excited imagination 



MADAME DE STAilL. 103 

gave to her expressions. But this passed away with 
the disease that produced it; and cahner feelings 
followed. She spoke of her death with composure 
and resignation to all except her daughter. " My 
father is waiting for me in the other world," said 
she, " and I shall soon go to him" By a great effort 
she wrote, with her palsied hand, a few affectionate 
words of farewell to her most intimate friends . Two 
days before her death, she read Lord Byron's Man- 
fred, then just published ; and expressed as clear 
and distinct an opinion on its poetry as she would 
have done at any moment of her life. The morning 
before she died, she pointed to these two beautiful 
passages, and said they expressed all she then felt: 

'■ Lo! the clankless cl^ain bath bound thee; 

O'er thy heart and brain together, 

Hath the word been passed — now wither ! 

"Oh, that I were 
The viewless spirit of a love'y sound, 
A living voice, a breathing harmony, 
A bodiless enjoy:nent — born and dying. 
With the blest tone, which made me ! " 

' Late that night, as her daughter was kneeling by 
her bedside, she tried to speak to her of her ap- 
proaching dissolution ; but the last agony of a 
mother's heart came over her, and she could not ; 
she asked her to go into the next room, and then 
she became calm agiin. Miss Randall, her long- 
known and affectionate friend, whom she had al- 
ways wished to have w^ith her at the last moment, 
remained alone with her until morning. Once, as 



104 MADAME DE STAEL. 

she revived from a temporary state of insensibility^ 
she said, " I believe I can realize what it is to pass 
from life to death : our ideas are confused, and v^^e 
do not suffer intensely. I am sure the goodness of 
God will render the transition easy." Her hopes 
were not disappointed. At about two o'clock she 
fell asleep ; and so tranquil was this last slumber, 
that it was only when at four o'clock she ceased to 
breathe, without any movement, or change of fea- 
ture, that it became too certain she would wake no 
more. She died on Monday, July I4th, 1817, at 
the age of fiftyone.' Her remains were carried to 
Coppet, and placed, as she had desired, by the side 
of hef- father. 

During her life-time, she had caused a beautiful 
bas-relief to be placed upon his monument. It 
represented a light celestial form, extending her 
hand to another figure, who looks back with com- 
passion upon a young female, veiled and prostrate 
before a tomb. Under these emblems are repre- 
sented Madame Necker, her husband, and their 
daughter ; the two first passing from this world to 
immortal life. 

M. de Rocca, whose fragile health had so often 
made Madame de Stael tremble for a life on which 
she leaned all her hopes, while her own existence 
was in the fulness of its vigor, was destined to sur- 
vive her ; but grief soon finished the work which 
illness had begun. He went to linger out his few 
brief days under the beautiful sky of Provence 
where a brother received his last sigh. He expir- 



MADAME DE STAEL. 105 

ed in the night of the 29th or 30th of January, 
1818, in his thirtyfirst year. Their only child was 
confided to the affectionate car^ of the Duchess de 
Broglie. 

Simond, in his tour through Switzerland, visited 
Coppet, soon after the death of Madame de Stael. 
He pays the following tribute to her memory : 
* Death has disarmed her numerous political ene- 
mies ; and the tongue of slander is silent. Her 
warm, generous, forgiving temper, her romantic 
enthusiasm, her unrivalled powers of conversation, 
her genius, are alone remembered. The place of 
this extraordinary woman is marked among the 
most eloquent writers of any age ; among the 
best delineators of human feelings and passions ; 
among the truest historians of the heart. She 
might not possess much positive knowledge ; some- 
times she spoke of things she did not thoroughly 
understand ; her imao-ination often took the lead of 
her judgment ; but her errors were invariably on 
the generous side, and still bespoke greatness of 
mind and elevated sentiment.' 

When Madame de Stael made a final arrange- 
ment of her affairs, a short time before her decease, 
she requested her children to declare her second 
marriage, and to publish her great work on the 
French Revolution, although she had not been able 
to complete it. The idea of finishing this book 
had been a favorite project, of which she had never 
lost sight from the time of her father's death, 
until the near approach of her own. Her first 



106 MADAME DE STAEL. 

effort is to vindicate M. Necker's memory from 
the aspersions cast upon it by his enemies ; and to 
prove that his political conduct was ever influenced 
by the purest, most patriotic, and most consistent 
motives. She had remarkable opportunities for 
obtaining full and accurate information concerning 
the startling scenes of the French Revolution, and 
the causes which produced them ; and in describ- 
ing them, she has singularly combined the anima- 
ted and fervid eloquence of an eye-witness, with 
the calmness and candor of an historian. The im- 
partiality with which she speaks of Bonaparte, 
after all she had suffered from him, shows that she 
possessed true greatness of soul. Indeed, a forgiv- 
ing temper was one of Madame de Stai Ts prevail- 
ing characteristics. No injuries could excite her 
to revenge ; she resented for a moment, but she 
never hated. She was so fearful of being ungen- 
erous, that she was less likely to speak ill of her ene- 
mies, for the very reason that they were her enemies. 
There was but one offence, which she never par- 
doned ; and that was a disrespectful word of her 
father. In such cases, she never resorted to retali- 
ation ; but she maintained toward the individual a 
perpetual coldness and reserve. 

The envious and frivolous Madame de Genlis, 
who, to considerable talent united an excessive 
vanity, was always attacking her distinguished rival 
with bitter criticisms and sarcastic remarks ; but 
Madame de Stael was never provoked to retort by 
an unkind word ; she praised her when she couldj 



MADAME DE STAEL. 107 

and when she could not, she was silent. When 
.Madame de Genlis, at last, spoke, unfavorably of 
Madame Necker, she exclaimed, ' Does she sup- 
pose, because I do not return her attacks upon my- 
self, that I will not defend my mother ! Madame de 
Genlis may say what she will of my writings ; and 
for myself, she may either love, or fear me. But 
I. will defend my dead mother, who has nobody 
else in the world to take her part. True, she loved 
my fath(H' better than she did me — and by that 
I know that I have all her blood in my veins ; as 
lonor as that blood circulates, she shall not be at- 
tacked with impunity !' Her friends represented 
to her that, as she was then exiled and persecuted, 
attacks on those she loved would only be multiplied 
by taking notice of them; and her indignation 
subsided, as rapidly as it had arisen. 

The fragments of the journal she kept after she 
left France have been published by her son and the 
Due de Broglie, under the title of the Ten Years' 
Exile of Madame de Stael. It is astonishing that 
she was able to observe so much of the countries 
through which she passed with rapidity and fear^ 
on her way to England. 

Madame de Stael wrote the articles Aspasia, 
Camoens, and Cleopatra, for La Biographic Uni- 
verselle. Her works were all collected and pub- 
lished in one edition by her children ; accompanied 
by a notice of her life and writings, by Madame 
Necker de Saussure. 

Such was the life of Madame de Stael — which 



lOS MADAME DE STAEL. 

through its whole course, more resembled a long 
continued and brilliant triumph than the ordinary 

r lot of mortals. Yet none of us would wish such a 
destiny for a sister, or a child. She herself had 
suffered so keenly from the envy and evil feelings 
which always darken the bright path of genius, 
that she exhorted her daughter not to follow in her 
footsteps. She talked freely to her children of the 
dangers into which she had been led by her active 
imagination and ardent feelings : she often quoted 
her motto to Deiphine, ' A man ought to know 
how to brave the opinion of the world ; a woman 
should submit to it.' 

Madame de Stael, with all her errors, deserves 
our highest respect and admiration. Her defects, 
whether as an author or a wonian, always sprung 
from the excess of something good. Everything 
in her character tended to extremes. She had an 
expansive freedom, a mighty energy of soul, which 
never found room enough in this small world of ours. 

; Her spirit was impatient within the narrow bounds 
of time and space, and was forever aspiring to 
something above the destiny of mortals. 

If we are disposed to blame her eagerness for all 
kinds of distinction, we must remember that her 
ambitious parents educated her for display, and 
that she was endowed with talents, which made 
every eifort a victory. If there is much to forgive, 
there is more to admire ; and few will censure her, 
if none speak harshly but those who have had equal 
temptations. The most partial cannot deny that 



MADAME DE STAEL 109 

she had many faults ; but they are so consecrated 
by unrivalled genius, by kindness, disinterested- 
ness, and candor, that we are willing to let the veil 
of oblivion rest upon them forever, and to remem- 
ber only that no woman was ever gifted v/ith a 
clearer head, or a better heart. 



NOTE. 

LIST OF "WORKS REFERRED TO. 

MS. Lectures on French Literature, by Professor 
Ticknor. 

Notice sur le Caractere et les Ecrits de Madame de Stael, 
par Madame Necker de Saussure. 

La Biograpbie Universelle. 

Simond'sTourin Switzerland. 

Sir John Sinclair's Correspondence. 

Memoirs and Correspondence of Baron de Grimm. 

Ten Years' Exile of Madame de Stael. 

Considerations on the French Revolution, by Madame de 
Stael. 

Moore's Life of Byron. '■ 

Lavalette's Memoirs. 

Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon, 

O'Meara's Voice from St Helena. 

Edinburgh Review. 

Monthlj'- Anthology. 

Encyclopsedia Americana. 



J 



MADAME ROLAND 



• O, Liberie, que de crimes on commet en ton nom ! ' 



Manon- Jeanne Phlipon, afterward Madame 
Roland, was born at Paris, in 1754. Her father 
was an engraver, not particularly distinguishe.l in 
his art. He seems to have been a common-place 
character, fond of money, and vain of his superfi- 
cial acquaintance with the fine arts. His daughter 
tells us that ' though he trafficked with tradesmen, 
he formed connexions only with artists. He could 
not be said to be a virtuous man, but he had a 
great deal of what is called honor. He had no 
objection to selling a thing for more than it wa8 
worth, but he would have killed himself rather than 
not pay the stipulated price of what he had agreed 
to purchase.' 

M. Phlipon married a very beautiful woman, 
with small fortune, but greatly his superior in intelli- 
gence and dignity of character. They had seven 
children ; of whom Manon-Jeaune was the second ; 



112 MADAME ROLAND. 

all the others died in infancy. After being two 
years with a faithful nurse in the country, watched 
over by a very devoted god-mother, Mademoiselle 
Phlioon was brouo:ht home to her father's. Her 

J. o 

gentle and discreet mother soon gained an ascen- 
dency over her youthful mind, which she never lost. 

At two years' old, she describes herself as a ' little 
brunette, whose dark hair played gracefully on 
a face animated by a blooming complexion.' The 
young lady was full of spirits, active, and not a 
little obstinate ; yet Madame Phlipon had never 
occasion to punish her in any other way than by 
fixing her eye sternly upon her, and gravely saying, 
* llademoiseUe ! ^ ' 

Madame Roland, while writing her Memoirs, 
during the last days of her life, says — ' I still feel 
the impression made upon me by her look ; I still 
hear, with a beating heart, the word if3Iade7?ioiscIIe 
substituted, with heart-rending dignity, for the 
kind name of daughter, or the elegant appellation 
of Manon. Yes, Manon /* I am sorry for the 
lovers of romance : there is certainly nothing noble 
in the name, nor is it at all suited to a heroine of 
the lofty kind ; but as a istorian, I cannot dis- 
guise the truth. The most fastidious would have 
become reconciled to the sound of this name, could 
they have seen my mother, and heard it pronounced 
in her soft, affectionate tone.' 

But though thus easily swayed by Madame Phli- 
pon, the child often rebelled against the imperious or- 

* Synonymous with Molly. 



MADAME ROLAND. 113 

ders of her father, and would never readily submit to 
anything of which she did not perceive the reason, u 
Anything like coercion made her as furious^as alion. 
Several times, she bit her father, while he was whip- 
ping her. When about six years old, it was one day 
necessary for her to take some nauseous medicine. 
At her mother's solicitation, she several times at- 
tempted to drink it, but turned away her head with 
loathing. Her father came in, and threatened her 
with the rod. This roused the native stubbornness 
of her character ; and from that moment she deter- 
mined she would not try to do as they w^ished. 
After a severe whipping, she attempted to throw the 
physic away. Her father, being very angry, a 
second time punished her still more severely. A 
violent uproar succeeded ; but the child was not 
subdued. Her father then promised her a third, 
and still more cruel whipping. Her cries and sobs 
suddenly ceased — calmly and firmly, she pushed 
the cup from her, and offered herself to the rod^ 
determined to die rather than submit. In relating 
this scene, she speaks of it as the first development 
of that heroic fortitude, which supported her through 
the horrors of the French Revolution. Her moth- 
er was, of course, dreadfully agitated : having 
persuaded her husband to leave the room, she put 
the little girl to bed, and left her, without saying a 
word. When the child had rested two hours, she 
returned, and, vv^ith tears in her eyes, entreated her 
to take the medicine, without occasioning her any 
further vexation ; the little girl, melted by her geii- 



114 MADAME ROLAND. 

tleness, looked steadily in her face, and swallowed 
it at a single draught. 

, From that time, her father never undertook to 
punish her. He adopted his wife's system of mild- 
ness and reason, and tried to gain his daughter's 
affections by walking with her, teaching her to draw, 
and entering into kind conversations with her. 

Being the only child of parents in easy circum- 
stances, Mademoiselle Phlipon received a more 
careful education than was usually bestowed upon 
young ladies of her class in life. Her bright and 
active mind made rapid progress in everything she 
undertook. At four years old, she read so well 
that no further trouble was required, except to sup- 
ply her with books enough. A prize obtained from 
the priest, to whom she said her Sunday lessons, 
seems to have given an early impulse to her ambi- 
tion. Indeed it is evident that, from her infancy, 
she was considered, both by herself and her parents, 
as a very extraordinary little personage. She says, 
' I learned everything it was thought proper to give 
me. I should have repeated the Koran, had I been 
taught to read it. I shall always remember a 
painter named Guibol, whose panegyric on Poussin 
obtained a prize from the Academy at Rouen. He 
frequently came to, my father's ; and being a merry 
fellow he told me many extravagant tales, which 
amused me exceedingly ; nor was he less diverted 
with making me display my slender stock of know- 
ledge in return. I think I see him now, with a 
figure bordering on the grotesque, sitting in jan 



MADAME ROLAND, 115 

armed chair, taking me between his knees, on which 
I rested my elbows, and making me repeat the 
Athanasian Creed ; then rewarding my compliance 
with the story of Tanger, whose nose was so long, 
that he was obliged, when he walked, to twist it 
round his arm : this is not the most absurd contrast 
that might be exhibited.' Masters were employed ' 
to instruct her in writing, geography, music, and 
dancing; and a maternal uncle, who was an ec- 
clesiastic, complied with her earnest request to 
teach her Latin. Such was her quickness of ap- 
prehension, and her eagerness to learn, that every 
new subject of study was a feast to her. She used 
to rise at five o'clock in the morning, when every . 
one else in the house was asleep, and steal softly ' 
to a corner of her mother's chamber, where her 
books were deposited ; and there she studied and 
copied her lessons with such assiduity, that every- 
body was astonished at the progress she made.j 
She says, ' My masters consequently, became 
more affectionate : gave me longer lessons ; and 
took such an interest in my instruction as excited 
me to new efforts. I never had a master, who did 
not appear as much flattered by teaching me, as I 
was grateful for being taught ; or one v/ho, after 
attending me a year or two, was not the first to say 
that his instructions were no longer necessary — 
that he ought no longer to be paid, but should be 
glad of permission to visit my parents, in order to 
converse with me sometimes.' 

Mademoiselle Phlipon did not get along so fast 



116 MADAME ROLAND. 

in her Latin, as in her other studies ; because her 
uncle Birnont was a social, merry priest, who much 
preferred a frolic with his lively little niece, 1o hear- 
ing her decline nouns and conjugate verbs. How- 
ever, to the imperfect knowledge she obtained from 
him, she attributes the singular facility she after- 
ward had in acquiring other languages. She says, 
* My studies completely occupied my days, which 
always seemed too short ; for I could never get 
through all I was inclined to undertake. I soon 
exhausted all the books the small family library 
contained. I devoured every volume, and began 
the same over again, when no new ones were to be 
obtained. Two folio Lives of the Saints, an old 
version of the Bible, a translation of Appian's Civil 
Wars, and a description of Turkey, written in a 
wretched style, I read over and over again. I also 
found the Comical Romance of Scarron ; some 
collections of pretended bon mots, on which I did 
not bestow a second perusal ; the Memoirs of the 
brave de Pontis, which diverted me much ; those 
of Mademoiselle de Montpensier, whose pride did 
not displease me ; and several other antiquated 
works, the contents, binding, and spots of which I 
have still before my eyes. Indeed, the passion for 
learning possessed me to such a degree, that having 
picked up a treatise on the art of Heraldry, I set 
myself instantly to study it. It had colored plates, 
with which I was diverted, and was glad to know 
the names of all the little figures they contained. 
My father was astonished when I gave him a spe- 



MADAME ROLAND. 117 

cimen of my science, by making some remarks on 
a seal, that was not engraved according to the rules 
of art. On this subject, I became his oracle, nor 
did I ever mislead him. I also endeavored to learn 
a short Treatise on Contracts, which fell into my 
hands ; but it tired me so soon, that I did not get 
to the fourth chapter. In searching the house, I 
found a recess in my father's work-shop, where one 
of the young men in his employ kept his books. This 
discovery furnished me with a store of reading. I 
carried off a volume at a time to devour in my little 
closet, taking great care to put it in place as soon as I 
had done. In this way, I read a great many vol- 
umes of Travels, of which I was passionately fond ; 
some Plays, of second-rate authors ; and Dacier's 
Plutarch. This last was more to my taste, 
than anything I had seen ; not even excepting 
pathetic stories, which always affected me power- 
fully. Plutarch seemed to be exactly the intellect- 
ual food that suited me : I shall never forget the 
Lent of 1763,, at which time I was nine years of age, 
when I carried it to church, instead of the Exer- 
cise for the Holy Week. From that period, I may 
date the impressions and ideas which rendered me 
a republican without my ever dreaming of becom- 
ing one : I actually wept because I was not born a 
Spartan or a Roman ! ' 

About the same time she became captivated w^ith 
the waitings of Tasso and Fenelon ; some passa- 
ges of which excited and agitated her so much, 
that she says she would have plucked out her 



118 MADAME ROLAND. 

tongue rather than have attempted to read them 
aloud. Her father, wishing to foster her propensity 
for serious studies, gave her Fenelon on female 
education, and Locke on the education of children 
in general. These books, intended for mature 
minds, would not have been read by many girls of 
her age ; but Mademoiselle Phlipon appears to have 
read them to some purpose, deriving from them 
habits of thought, and self-examination. 

She received instructions in engraving, as well 
as drawing ; and during childhood, her birth-day 
presents to relatives usually consisted of some 
pretty head drawn by herself, or a flower neatly 
engraved on copper, with a compliment written 
beneath. These things, however, were merely 
intended as innocent and delightful resources, 
during the many lonely hours, which the destiny 
of woman almost always imposes upon her. Her 
judicious mother did not wish to see her entirely 
engrossed in such employments, even for the sake 
of great excellence ; for she was aware that she 
should not contribute to her daughter's happiness, 
or usefulness, by making her an artist. 

With regard to dress, Madam Phlipon did as 
the parents of an only child are too apt to do. 
Madame Roland says, ' In her own dress she was 
plain, sometimes even negligent ; but I was her 
doll, and it was her great delight to see me fine. 
From my infancy I was dressed with a degree of 
elegance, that seemed unsuitable to my condition. 
The young ladies of that period wore long trains 



MADAME ROLAND. 119 

to their robes, which swept the pavement as they 
walked. These trains were trimmed according to 
the taste of the wearer. Mine were of fine silk, 
of some simple pattern and modest color, but in 
price and quality equal to my mother's best gala 
suits. My toilette was a grievous business. My 
hair was papered and fi-izzed, and tortured with 
hot irons, and other barbarous implements used at 
that time, until my sufferings actually forced the 
tears from my eyes. Considering the retired life I 
led, some will ask for whose eyes all this finery was 
intended ? It is true, that my mother was almost 
always at home, and received very little company. 
Two days in the week, however, we always went 
abroad; once to visit my father's relations, and 
once,'which was on Sunday, to see my grandmother 
Bimont, to go to church, and to take a walk. My 
grandmother was a handsome woman, who at an 
early age had suffered an attack of the palsy, from 
which her understanding had sustained a permanent 
injury. From that time she had gradually de- 
clined into a state of dotage ; spending her- days in 
her easy-chair, either at the window or the fire-side, 
according to the season. An old servant, who had 
been forty years in the family, regularly gave me 
my afternoon's repast, as soon as I entered. When 
that was over, I grew dreadfully tired of the visit. 
I sought for books, but could find none except the 
Psalter ; and for want of better employment I read 
the French, and chanted the Latin, twenty times 
over. When I was gay, my grandmother would 



120 MADAME ROLAND. 

often weep, uttering grievous cries, that frightened 
and distressed me ; and if I fell down, or hurt my- 
self in any way, she would laugh aloud. It was in 
vain to tell me all this was the effect of her disease ; 
I did not find it any more agreeable on that account. 
My mother considered, it a sacred duty to pass two 
hours listening to the old servant's garrulity. This 
was a painful exercise to my patience ; but I was 
forced to submit to it : one day, when I cried for 
vexation, and begged to go away, my mother, as a 
punishment staid the whole evening. She took 
proper occasions to impress it upon my mind that her 
assiduous attention to a helpless parent was a sacred 
and becoming duty, in \yhich it was honorable for 
me to participate. I know not how she managed 
it, but my heart received the lesson with emotion. 

Beside these regular family- visits, there were 
others paid on great occasions, such as new-year's 
day, weddings, christenings, &c, which afforded 
sufficient opportunities for the gratification of vanity. 
Those acquainted with the manners of what was 
then called the bourgeoisie of Paris, w^ill know that 
there were thousands of them, whose expense in 
dress (by no means inconsiderable) had no other 
object than, an exhibition of. a few hours, on Sun- 
day, in the Ttiikries ; to which their^ wives joined 
the display of their finery at church, and the pleas- 
ure of parading their own quarter of the town, be- 
fore their admh-ing neighbors. 

But my education afforded many strong contrasts. 
The young lady elegantly dressed for exhibition 



~ MADAxME ROLAND. 121 

at church and in the public walks on Sunday, and 
whose manners and language were perfectly con- 
sistent with her appearance, could nevertheless, go 
to market with her mother in a linen frock, or step 
into the street alone, to buy a salad, which the 
servant had forgotten. It is true, I was not much 
pleased with these commissions ; but I showed no 
signs of dislike. I behaved with so much civility, 
yet with so much dignity, that the shop-keepers 
always took pleasure in serving me first ; yet those 
who came before me were never offended. I was 
sure to pick up some compliment or other in the 
w^ay, which only served to make me more polite. 
The same child, who read systematic works, who 
could explain the circles of the celestial sphere, 
who could handle the crayon and the graver, and 
who at eight years of age was the best dancer in 
the youthful parties, was frequently called into the 
kitchen to make an omelet, pick herbs, or skim 
the pot. This mixture of serious studies, agree- 
able relaxations, and domestic cares, was rendered 
pleasant by my mother's good management, and 
fitted me for everything : it seemed to for bode the 
vicissitudes of my future life, and enabled me to 
bear them. In every place I am at home : I can pre- 
pare my- own dinner with as much address as Philo- 
poemen cut wood ; but no one seeing me thus en- 
gaged, would think it an office, in which I ought to 
be employed." 

Madame Phlipon was a pious woman, and of 
course earnestly endeavored to instil religious feel- 



IS'i MADAME ROLAND. ^ 

ings into the mind of her child. These maternal in- 
tructions, rendered doubly impressive by the solemn 
ritual of the Catholic church, soon kindled her ar- 
dent nature into a blaze of enthusiasm. She read 
with avidity the explanations of the church cere- 
monies, and treasured up their mystic signification 
in her memory. Again and again she studied the 
Lives of the Saints, and regretted those happy days 
when the persecuting fury of paganism conferred 
the crown of martyrdom upon courageous christians. 
Her active imagination invested the solitude and 
silence of the cloister, with everything grand and 
romantic. Before she experienced this state of 
mind, the idea of leaving her mother had been ex- 
tremely painful to her ; the least mention of it 
drew forth a flood of tears. Her friends, being 
aware of this feelino;, would sometimes amuse 
themselves by talking of the propriety of sending 
young ladies to a convent for a few years ; and 
smile to observe the sudden clouds, which quick 
sensibility would spread over her expressive coun- 
tenance. But now the state pf things was quite 
different ; all her thoughts were occupied with the 
idea of withdrawing from the world and its pleas- 
ures. One evening, being alone with her parents, 
she fell at their feet, and with a torrent of tears 
besought them to send her to a convent, that she 
might prepare for her first communion in a frame 
of mind suitable to the solemnity of the occasion 
This request affected her parents deeply ; and was 
immediately complied with. 



MADAME ROLAND. 123 

After some inquiries into the character of the nu- 
merous convents, Mademoiselle Phlipon was con- 
ducted to the Sisterhood of the Congregation, in the 
Rue Neuve St Etienne. She says, ' While press- 
ing my dear mother in my arms, at the moment of 
parting with her for the first time in my life, I 
thought my heart would have burst ; but I was act- 
ing in obedience to the voice of God, and passed 
the threshold of the cloister, tearfully offering up 
to him the greatest sacrifice I was capable ofmak- 
ing. This was on the seventh of May, 1765, when 
I was eleven years and two months old.' 

' In the gloom of a prison, in the midst of politi- 
cal storms, which ravage my country, and sweep 
away all that is dear to me, how shall I recall to 
my mind and how describe the rapture and tran- 
quillity I enjoyed at this period of my life ! What 
lively colors can express the soft emotions of a 
young heart endued with tenderness and sensibil- 
ity, greedy of happiness, beginning to be alive to 
the beauties of nature, and perceiving the Deity 
alone ! The first night I spent at the convent was 
a night of ao-itation. I was no 16na;er under the 
paternal roof I Vv^as at a distance from that kind 
mother, who was doubtless thinking of me with 
affectionate emotion. A dim light diffused itself 
through the room in which I had been put to bed, 
with four children of my own age. I stole softly 
from my couch, and drew near the window, the 
light of the moon enabling me to distinguish the 
' garden, which it overlooked. The deepest silence 



124 MADAME ROLAND. 

prevailed around, and I listened to it, if I may use 
the expression, with a sort of respect. Lofty trees 
cast their gigantic shadows along the ground, and 
promised a secure asylum to peaceful meditation. 
I lifted up my eyes to the heavens ; they were un- 
clouded and serene. I imagined that I felt the 
presence of the Deity smiling on my sacrifice, and 
already offering me a reward in the consolatory 
hope of a celestial abode. Tears of delight flowed 
down my cheeks. I repeated my vows with holy 
ecstasy, and went to bed again to taste the slumber 
of the elect. 

As it was evening when I came to the convent, 
I had not yet seen all my fellow boarders. 
' Thirtyfour were assembled in one school-room. 
They were from the age of six to that of eighteen ; 
the older and the younger being divided into separate 
classes. There was so much of the little woman 
about me, that it was immediately judged proper 
to include me with the elder set. I accordingly 
became the twelfth at their table, and found my- 
self the youngest of them all. My correct mode 
of speaking, the sedate air Vvhich had become ha- 
bitual, and the tone of politeness rendered familiar 
to me by my mother's manner, bore very little re- 
semblance to the noisy mirth of my thoughtless 
companions. I inspired the children with confi- 
dence, because I never gave them a rude answer ; 
and the older girls treated me with respect because 
my seriousness procured particular attention from 
the nuns, while it did not lessen my desir^o oblige 



MADAME ROLAND. 125 

them. Educated as I had hitherto been, it was 
not surprising that I was better informed than most 
of my class, though the youngest of them all. The 
nuns perceived they could derive honor from my 
education without taking any pains to continue it. 
I became the favorite of the whole sisterhood ; it 
was quite a matter of contention who should caress 
and compliment me. In addition to the convent 
studies, I still received lessons in music and 
drawing. The regularity of a life filled up with 
such a variety of studies was well suited to the ac- 
tivity of my mind, and to my natural taste for meth- 
od and application. I was one of the first at every- 
thing ; yet I always had leisure, because I was dil- 
igent, and did not lose a moment of my time. In 
the hours set apart for recreation, I felt no desire 
to run and play with the crowd, but retired to some 
solitary spot to read and meditate. With what de- 
light w-as I filled by the beauty of the foliage, and 
the fragrance of the flowers ! Everywhere I per- 
ceived the hand of Deity ! 

* A novice took the veil soon after my arrival at the 
convent. I still feel the agitation which her slight- 
ly tremulous voice excited in my bosom, when she 
melodiously chanted the customary verse, " Here 
have Icliosen my abode, and will establishit forever ? 
I can repeat the notes as accurately as if I had 
heard them yesterday ; and happy should I be, if I 
could chant them in America ! Oh God ! with 
what emphasis should I utter them now !* 

* It will be recollected that Madame Roland wrote her 
memoirs in prison, during the reign of Robespierre. 



126 MADAME ROLAND. 

' When the novice, after pronouncing her vows, 
was covered with a pall, under which one might 
have supposed her to have been buried, I was no 
longer myself — I was the very victim of the sac- 
rifice. I thought they were tearing me from my 
mother, and shed torrents of tears. 

* With sensibility like this, which renders impres- 
sions so profound, existence never grows languid. 
I have never found mine a burden, even in. the 
midst of the severest trials : and though not yet 
forty, I have lived to a prodigious age, if life be 
measured by the sentiment that has marked every 
moment of its duration. 

^ I received my first communion at the festival of 
the Assumption, soon after I was placed at the 
convent. Prepared by all the customary means, by 
retirement, long prayers, silence, and meditation, 
I considered it as a solemn engagement, and the 
pledge of eternal felicity. It excited my imagina- 
tion, and softened my heart to such a degree, that, 
bathed in tears, and enraptured with divine love, I 
was incapable of walking to the altar without the 
assistance of a nun, who took me under both arms, 
and bore me to the sacred table. These demonstra- 
tions of a feeling entirely unaffected procured me 
great consideration, and all the good old women I 
met were sure to recommend themselves to my 
prayers.' 

During her residence in the convent, her parents 
came every Sabbath to walk with her in the Jardin 
du Roi. Although very happy among her young 



MADAME ROLAND. 127 

companions, she never parted from her mother with- 
out tears. ' Yet,' she says, ' I returned from 
these excursions with pleasure to the silent clois- 
ters, and walked through them with measured step, 
the better to enjoy their solitude. Sometimes I 
would stop at a tomb, on which the eulogy of a 
pious maiden was engraved. " She is happy," said 
I to myself, with a sigh. And then a melancholy, 
not without its charms, would take possession of 
my soul, and make me long to be received into the 
bosom of the Deity, where I hoped to find that 
perfect felicity, of which I felt the want.' 

She remained with the nuns a year ; during 
which time she formed an intimate friendship with 
Sophia Cannet, whose family were allied to the 
nobility; this friendship continued through her 
life ; and she attributes her facility in writing to the 
constant correspondence which she maintained 
with this young lady, after their separation. Another 
friendship, equally permanent existed between her 
and a nun, many years her senior, called Saint 
Agatha. 

At the time Mademoiselle Phlipon left this peace- 
ful retreat, her father was engaged in parish affairs, 
that called him much from home ; and her mother, 
being obliged to superintend his business, could 
not watch over her daughter so continually as she 
deemed necessary ; it was therefore decided that 
she should reside for a time v/ith her grandmother 
Phlipon, and her great-aunt Angelica. 

Her paternal grandmother was a graceful, lady- 



128 MADAME ROLAND. 

like matron, who thought a great deal of outward 
elegance, and refinement of manner ; aunt An- 
gelica was meek, affectionate, and pious. With 
these good old relatives Mademoiselle Phlipon pass- 
ed her thirteenth year, secluded from all intercourse 
with the world, save an occasional visit to her 
mother, or to her friends at the convent. 

An anecdote, which she relates at this time, serves 
y to show how early her republican mind began to 
be troubled by any assumption of superiority in 
rank. ' My grandmother one day took it in her 
head to visit Madame de Boismorel,v/ith whom she 
was remotely connected, and whose children she 
had partly educated. Great were the preparations 
in consequence ; and tedious was the business of 
dressing, which began at break of day. On en- 
. tering the mansion, all the servants, beginning with 
the porter, saluted Madame Phlipon with an air of 
respect and affection. She ansv/ered every one in 
the kindest and most dignified manner ; so far, all 
went well. But she could not deny herself the 
pleasure of pointing out her grand-daughter ; and 
the servants must needs pay fine compliments to 
the young lady. I had an uncomfortable feeling, 
for which I could not account ; but which I per- 
ceived to proceed, in part, from the idea that ser- 
vants might look at, and admire me, but that it 
was not their business to pay me compliments.'*'^ 

*Iike many republicans of maturer years, she seems, at 
this period, to have been anxious to level doion to herself, 
but not to level ujy. 



MADAME ROLAND. 129 

We were announced by a tall footman, and walk- 
ed into the parlor, where we found Madame de 
Boismorel seated upon an ottoman, embroidering 
with great gravity. Her dress bespoke less taste 
than desire to display her opulence, and indicate 
her rank ; while her countenance, far from ex- 
pressing any wish to please, announced her claims 
to respect, and the consciousness of her merit. 
Rouge, an inch thick, gave her unmeaning eyes a 
much more unfeeling look than was necessary to 
make me fix mine upon the ground. " A, Mad- 
emoiselle Rotisset ; good morning to you !" cried 
Madame de Boismorel, in a loud and frigid tone, 
while rising to receive us. (''So my grandmother is 
called 3IadenioisdIe, in this house," thought I to 
myself) " I am very glad to see you, indeed. And 
who is this fine girl ? Your grand-daughter, I sup- 
pose 1 She promises to make a pretty Vv'oman. 
Come here, my dear. She is a little bashful. 
How old is your grand-daughter, Mademoiselle 
Rotisset ? She is a little brown, to be sure ? but 
her skin is clear, and will grow fairer a year or 
two hence. She is quite the woman already. I 
will lay my life, that hand must be a lucky one. 
Did you ever venture in the lottery, my dear?" 
'' Never, madam: I am not fond of gaming." "What 
an admirable voice ! So sweet, and yet so full-toned ! 
But how grave she is ! Pray, my dear, are you not 
a little of the devotee ?" " I know my duty to God, 
and I endeavor to fulfil it." "That 's a good girl. 
You wish to take the veil, don't you ?" "I do not 



\/ 



130 MADAME ROLAND. 

know what will be my destination ; nor do I at pre- 
sent seek to conjecture it." " Very sententious in- 
deed ! Your grand-daughter reads a great deal, 
does she not, Madamoiselle Rotisset'?" " Heading, 
madam, is her greatest delight." " Ay, ay, I see 
how it is ; but have a care she does not turn author ; 
, that would be a pity indeed." The ladies then 
began to talk of the health and the follies of their 
family connexions. I took a survey of the apart- 
ment, the decorations of which pleased me much 
more than the lady to whom they belonged. My 
blood circulated more rapidly than usual, my cheeks 
glowed, and my little heart was all of a flutter. I 
did not yet ask myself why 7}iy gramlmotlier was not 
seated on the' ottoman, and why Madame de Eois- 
morel was not playing the humble part of my aunt 
Angelica; but I had the feelings, which naturally 
lead to such reflections.' 

After a year's residence with her grandmother, 
she returned home. She says, ' It was not without 
regret that I left the handsome streets of the Isle 
St Louis, the pleasant quays, and the tranquil 
banks of the Seine, where I was accustomed to 
take the air with my aunt Angelica, in the serene 
summer evenings. Along those quays I used to 
pass, without meeting a single object to interrupt 
my meditations, when, in the fervency of my zeal, 
I repaired to the temple to pour out my whole sou 
at the foot of the altar. Notwithstanding my love 
for my mother, I took leave of my aged relatives 
with a flood of tears. My grandmother's gayety 



MADAME ROLAND, 131 

had given a charm to her qaiet residence, in which 
I had passed so many happy days. I was still going 
to reside upon the banks of the Seine ; but the sit- 
uation of my father's house was not solitary and 
peaceful, like that of his mother. The moving 
picture of the Pont Neuf y^xiq^l the scene every 
moment ; and literally, as well as figuratively, I 
entered the world, when I returned to my paternal 
roof. A free air a.nd an unconfined space still, 
however, gave scope to my romantic imagination. 
How many times have I contemplated Vv^ith tears 
of delight the vast expanse of heaven, audits azure 
dome, designed with so much grandeur, stretching 
from the gray east beyond the Pont-au-Change to 
the trees of the mall, and the houses of Chaillot, 
resplendent with the setting sun ! I know not if 
sensibility give a mare vivid hue to every object, 
or if certain situations, which do not appear very 
remarkable, contribute powerfully to develope it, 
or if both be not leciprocally cause and effect ; but 
when I review the events of my life, I find it diffi- 
cult to assign ta circumstances, or to my disposition, 
that variety and that plenitude of affection, which 
have so strongly marked every point of itsduration, 
and left me so clear a remembrance of every place 
at which I have been. ' 

Her passion for reading continued unabated ; 
and she seems to have been allowed to indulge it 
without control, or guidance. As her father's li- 
brary was very limited, she was obliged to borrow 
and hire books ; the necessity of returning them 



132 - MADAME ROLAND. 

soon led to the habit of making copious extracts, 
and of forming abstracts of what she had read ; 
thus, as is often the case, privation became a bless- 

. ing. The Abbe le Jay, with whom her uncle 
Bimont boarded, gave her the free use of his libra- 
ry, which proved a great resource for her during 
his life-time ; a period of about three years. One 
of his brothers having ruined himself, the Abbe 
lost his senses, and died in consequence of a fall 
from his window. Mademoiselle d' Hannaches, 
a relative who had superintended his house for 
many years, went to board with Madam Phlipon 
after his death. Madame Roland says, 'This lady 
was tall, dry, and sallow; with a shrill voice; 
proud of her descent ; and tiring everybody with 
her economy and her pedigree. While she was 
accommodated in my mother's house, she was in- 
volved in an intricate law-suit concernins; her 
inheritance. I was her secretary. 1 wrote her 
letters, copied her dear genealogy, drew up the 
petitions, which she presented to the president and 
the attorney-general of the parliament, and some- 
times accompanied her when she went to make in- 

^ terest with persons of consequence. I easily per- 
ceived that, notvi^ithstanding her ignorance, her 
stiff demeanor, her bad v/ay of expressing herself, 
and her other absurdities, respect was paid to her 
origin. The names of her ancestors (which she 
never failed to repeat) were attended to, and great 
pains were taken to obtain what she desired. I 
comparsd the honorable reception she met with. 



MADAME ROLAND. 133 

to that given me, when I went with my grand- 
mother to visit Madame de Boismorel — a visit 
which had left a deep impression on my mind. I 
could not help feeling my superiority over Mad- 
emoiselle d'Hannaches, who, with her genealogy, 
and at the age of forty, was unable to write a line 
of common sense, or even a legible hand ; and it 
appeared to me that the world was extremely unjust, 
and the institutions of society highly absurd.' 

Her independent feelings seem to have been 
still more goaded by occasional visits to the family 
of Lamotte, connexions of her friend, Sophia Can- 
net. Proud, stupid, and intolerant, the various 
members of this family could not forbear making a 
show of condescension in admitting the daughter 
of an artisan to their acquaintance ; a condescen- 
sion which aroused her proud and ambitious nature 
to feelings of contempt, perhaps not unmixed with 
bitterness. She says, ' The opulent M. Cannet, 
seeing the success of a tragedy written by his 
kinsman Belloy, and calculating the profits, ex- 
claimed, in sober sadness, " Why did not my father 
teach me to compose tragedies ! / could have 
worJced upon them on Sundays and holidays .'" Yet 
these wealthy blockheads, these pitiful possessors 
of purchased nobility, these impertinent soldiers, 
these wretched magistrates, considered themselves 
as the props of civil society, and actually enjoyed 
privileges, which merit could not obtain. I com- 
pared these absurdities of human arrogance with 
the pictures of Pope, tracing its effects in the arti- 



134 MADAMEROLAND. 

san, as proud of his leather apron as the king of 
his crown. I endeavored to think, with him, that 
everything was right ; but my pride told me things 
were ordered better in a republic. No doubt our 
situation in life has a great influence on our char- 
acters and opinions ; but in the education I receiv-' 
ed, and in the ideas I acquired by study, and by 
observation of the world, everything seemed to com- 
bine to inspire me with republican enthusiasm, by 
making me perceive the folly, or feel the injustice, 
of a multitude of privileges and distinctions. In 
^ all my readings, I took the side of the champions 
of equality. I was Agis and Cleomenes at Sparta : 
the Gracchi at Rome ; and like Cornelia,! should 
have reproached my sons with being called nothing 
but the mother-in-law of Scipio. I retired with 
the plebeians to the Aventine hill ; and gave my 
vote to the tribunes. Now that experience has 
taught me to appreciate everything impartially, I 
see in the enterprise of the Gracchi, and in the 
conduct of the tribunes, crimes and mischiefs, of 
which I was not at the time sufficiently aware. 
When I happened to be present at any of the 
great sights of the. Capital, such as the entry of the 
dueen, the Princesses, &c, I compared with grief 
this Asiatic luxury and insolent pomp, with the 
abject misery of the debased populace, who prostra- 
ted themselves before idols of their own making, 
and foolishly applauded the ostentatious splendor, 
which they paid for by depriving themselves of the 
necessaries of life. I was not insensible to the 



MADAME ROLAND. 135 

effect of magnificence ; but I felt indignant at its 
being intended to set off a few individuals, already 
too powerful, though in themselves deserving little 
regard. When my mother took me to Versailles, 
to show me the pageantry of the court, I liked bet- 
ter to look at the statues in the gardens, than at 
the great personages in the palace ; and when she 
asked me if I were pleased with the excursion, I 
replied, " Yes, if it terminate speedily ; but if we 
stay here a few days longer, 1 shall so perfectly 
detest the people I see, that I shall not know what 
to do with my hatred," " Why," said she, " what 
harm do they do you." — " They give me the feel- 
ing of injustice, and oblige me every moment to 
contemplate absurdity." ' 

It filled me with surprise and indignation to hear 
people talk about the dissolute conduct of the court 
during the lastyears of Louis XV. and of the im- 
morality which pervaded all ranks of the nation. 
Not perceiving as yet the germs- of a revolution, I 
asked how things could exist in such a state. His- 
tory taught me that the corruption of empires was 
always a prelude of decline ; and when I heard 
.the French nation lauo-hino- and sinffinu at its own 
misfortunes, I felt that our neighbors were right in 
regarding us as children. I became familiar with 
the English constitution, and strongly attached to 
English literature, though I at present knew it only 
through the medium of translations. I sighed at 
the recollection of Athens, where I could have en- 
joyed the fine arts, without being annoyed by the 



136 MADAME ROLAND. 

sight of despotism. I was out of all patience at 
being a Frenchwoman. Enchanted with the gold- 
en period of the Grecian republic, I passed over 
the storms by which it had been agitated ; I forgot 
the exile of Aristides, the death of Socrates, and 
the condemnation of Phocion. I little thought that 
heaven reserved me to be a witness of similar errors, 
to profess the same principles, and to participate 
in the glory of jhe same persecutions.' 

A little anecdote, which Madame Roland relates, 
serves to show how her observing mind learned a 
lesson from the most trivial occurrences, and how 
adroitly she made them bear upon her favorite theo- 
ries. Being extremely fond of rural scenery, she 
persuaded her father to make excursions into the 
country on Sunday afternoons, instead of his usual 
walks in the Bois de Boulogne, or the gardens of St 
Cloud. On some occasions, they remained in the 
country until the next day. One night her father 
attempted to draw the curtains of his bed perfectly 
close, and pulled the strings so hard, that the tester 
fell down upon him, and covered him so completely 
that he could not move. The landlady, being call- 
ed, was greatly astonished, and exclaimed with 
much simplicity, ' Goodness ! How could this 
happen ! It is seventeen years since the bed was 
put up ; and in all that time it has never budged 
an inch.' Madame Roland says, ' The logic of our 
hostess made me laugh more than the fall of the 
tester. Often afterward, when I heard political 
arguments, I used to whisper to my mother, ' This 



MADAME ROLAND. 137 

is as good reasoning, as that the bed ought not to 
have given way, when it had remained undisturbed 
for seventeen years.' 

Her intellect, ever restless, and confident in its ■ 
own energies, began to employ itself in a less 
profitable manner than idolizing the ancients, and 
fashioning imaginary republics. While residing 
with her grandmother, she read some of the con- 
troversial writings of Bossuet, and learned the argu- 
ments of unbelievers by his attempts to refute 
them. How often has infidelity stolen into the ■. 
youthful mind through a similar channel ! From 
that time she besjan to make religion a matter of 
speculation rather than of feeling — and when did 
reason, rejecting revelation, and relying on its own 
unassisted pride, make men wise unto salvation ! 

' Our meddling intellect 
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things 
We murder to dissect.'' 

With cold and arrogant reason for her guide, 
she passed, through various states of mind, into 
the dark and comfortless regions of utter scepti- 
cism. -4- 

The ardor of her character was such, that she 
always identified herself with the persons or 
parties of which she read. Thus when she first 
entered upon religious controversy, she became 
enamored with the austerity of the Jansenists, be- 
cause her frank temper could not abide the evasive 
and flexible faith of the Jesuits. When she studied 



138 MADAME ROLAND. 

Descartes and Malebranche, she considered her kit- 
ten merely as a piece of animated mechanism per- 
forming its movements. When she became ac- 
quainted with the ancient sects of philosophy, she 
persuaded herself that she was a Stoic ; and tried 
various experiments to prove her contempt for suf- 
fering. Succeeding years brought before her notice 
the wild and wicked systems, which the French dig- 
nified with the title of Philosophy, at the period 

^ when Anarchy was baptized with the blood of 
Liberty and took her name. Thus the influences 
aroraid Madame Roland served to increase the 
darkness brought upon her by the worship of her 
own intellect. She became a Deist ; and sometimes 
shared the Atheist's incredulity. I presume no 
one was ever able to be always an Atheist. Rea- 
son, — bewildered at her own work, and frightened 
at her utter loneliness, — still tries to grasp at some 
shadow of belief, even if it be as indefinite as a 
' Principle of Agency.^ In vain have systems of 
philosophy been based upon the utter selfishness 
of mankind — in vain have they ridiculed our 
hopes of immortality. There is that within the 
human heart, — and it comes directly from God, — 
which will not suffer us ahvays to disbelieve in 
better influences than mere self-love, and in holier 
aspirations than the cravings of appetite. Men 
cannot live amonsi; their fellow-beino;s and doubt 
the existence of human virtue ; though perchance 

I they may choose to call it a ' sublime instinct,' 



MADAME ROLAND. 139 

The fables and absurd ceremonies, with which 
the church of Rome had become loaded in the 
course of centuries, no doubt had their share in 
disturbing the early faith of Madame Roland ; but 
it is equally true that had she kept her heart in all 
humility, false doctrines, whether they took the 
name of philosophy or of religion, would have had 
no power to mislead her. She says, ' In my in- 
fancy, I necessarily embraced the creed that was 
offered me ; it was mine until my mind was suffi- 
ciently enlightened to examine it ; but even then 
all my actions were in strict conformity with its 
precepts. I was astonished at the levity of those, 
who, professing a similar faith, acted in a different 
way. 

* I attended church, because I would not for the 
world afflict my mother ; and even after her death 
I continued to do so, for the edification of my 
neighbor and the good of society. Divine service, 
if performed with solemnity, affords me pleasure. 
I forget the quackery of priests, their ridiculous 
fables and absurd mysteries — and see nothing but 
weak mortals assembled together to implore the 
aid of the Supreme Being. If I did not carry to 
church the tender piety of former days, I at least 
maintained as much decency and attention. I did 
not indeed follow the priest in his recital of the 
service ; but I read some christian work. I always 
retained a great liking for St Augustine. Assur- 
edly there are fathers of the church, w^hom a per- 
son may peruse wdth delight, without being a bigot' 



140 MADAME ROLAND. 

ed Christian — there is food in them both for the 
heart and the mind.' 

It is evident that the remains of her early piety 
never left her entirely. Her guardian angels lin- 
gered around her, and she could not wholly shut 
out from her soul the light in which they dwelt. 
She says, ' It seemed to me as if I was dissecting 
nature, and robbing it of all its charms. Can the 
sublime idea of a Divine Creator, whose Providence 
watches over the world, and the immortality of the 
soul, that consolatory hope of persecuted virtue, — 
can these be nothing more than splendid chimeras ? 
In how much obscurity are these difficult problems 
involved ! What accumulated objections arise 
when we wish to examine them with mathematical 
rigor ! But why should the man of sensibility re- 
pine at not being able to demonstrate what he feels 
to be true ? In the silence of the closet, and the 
/dryness of discussion, I can agree with the atheist, 
or the materialist; but when I contemplate nature, 
my soul, full of emotion, soars aloft to the vivifying 
principle that animates creation, to the almighty 
intellect that pervades it, to the goodness that makes 
it so delightful to our senses ! And now, when 
immense walls separate me from all I love, I see the 
reward of mortal sacrifices beyond the limits of 
this life. How ? In what manner ? I cannot say 
— I only feel that so it must be. 

^I have sometimes been overcome with emotion 
while my heart exalted itself to that supreme intel- 
ligence, that first cause, that gracious providence, 



MADAME ROLAND. 141 

that principle of thought and of sentiment, ^ which 
it felt the necessity of believing and of acknow- 
ledging. " O Thou, who hast placed me on the 
earth enable me to fulfil my destination in the man- 
ner most conformable to the divine will, and most 
beneficial to my fellow-creatures :" This unaffected 
prayer, as simple as the heart that dictated it, has 
become my only one : never have the doubts of 
philosophy, or the excitements of the world, been 
able to dry up its source. Amid the tumults of 
society, and in the depth of a dungeon, I have pro- 
nounced it with equal fervorr In the most brilliant 
circumstances of my life I uttered it with transport; 
and in fetters I repeat it with resignation.' 

In these expressions we see glimmerings of bet- 
ter things than the scoffer's laugh, or the sceptic's 
sneer — and with the hope that Madame Roland's 
irreligion was more in her head than her heart, I 
will entirely dismiss a subject alike painful and 
unprofitable. 

Madame Roland did not entertain the com- 
mon, but very erroneous idea, that when she 
left school education was completed. After her 
return home, she continued to read and study, 
and never neglected an opportunity of learning any- 
thing. The various kinds of needlework, taught 
her by her grandmother, served to amuse the long 
evenings, during which her mother usually read 
aloud ; the advantage of this custom was doubled 
by her constant habit of writing down, every morn- 
ing, those passages, or thoughts, which had struck 



142 MADAME ROLAND. 

her most forcibly the evening preceding. For some 
time, she continued to take lessons in music and 
dancing. Her father tried to persuade her to give 
some attention to engraving. He offered to share 
the profits, according to a book he wished her to 
keep ; but from a dislike of mercenary motives, or 
a v^ant of interest in the employment, she soon 
threv/ aside the graver in disgust. She says, 
' Nothing was so insipid to me as to engrave the 
edge of a watch-case, or to ornament a bauble ; 
and I cared less about money to buy ribands, than 
time to read good authors.' 

Geometry became her favorite study, and for a 
time she applied herself to it with much industry ; 
but when she came to algrebra, she soon grew 
weary ; and her husband could never persuade her 
that there was anything attractive in reasoning by 
X and Y. For want of other books she studied 
several works on agriculture and economy, be- 
cause she could never be easy unless she was 
learning something. These habits, so different from 
those of her 3^oung companions, of course excited 
many remarks. Some called her a prodigy, others 

y a pedant; and her parents were again and again 
warned of the danger of her becoming a biue-stock- 
ing. An intelligent traveller, who visited at her 
father's, used to say, in a prophetic tone, ' You may 
do what you will to avoid it. Mademoiselle ; but 
you will certainly ^vrite a book : ' to v.'hich she 
would reply, ' Then it shall be under another name ; 

V for I would sooner cut off my fingers, than become 



MADAME ROLAND. 143 

an author.' She says, ' I was fond of rendering an 
account of my own ideas to myself, and the interven- 
tion of my pen assisted me in putting them in order. 
When I did not employ it, I was rather lost in 
reveries than engaged in meditation : but with my 
pen I kept my imagination within bounds,, and 
pursued a regular chain of reasoning. Before I 
was twenty years old, I had begun to make some 
collections, which I have since auo-mented, and 
entitled The Works of Leisure Hours, and Various 
Reflections. I had nothing further in view than 
to have witnesses of my sentiments, which, on some 
future day, I might confront with one another, so 
that their gradations, or their changes, might serve 
at once as a lesson and a record. I have a pretty 
large packet of these juvenile works piled up in 
the dusty corner of my library, or perhaps in the 
garret. Never, howev^er, did 1 feel the smallest 
temptation to become an author. At a very early 
period, I perceived that a woman who acquires the ' 
title loses far more than she gains. She forfeits 
the affection of the male sex, and provokes the ■■/ 
criticism of her own. If her v/orks be bad, she is 
justly ridiculed ; if good, her right to them is dis- 
puted ; or if envy be compelled to acknovvledge 
the best part to be her own, her talents, her morals, 
and her manners, are scrutinized so severely, that 
the reputation of her genius is fully counterbalanc- 
ed by the publicity given to her defects. Besides, J 
happiness was my chief concern ; and I never 
knew the public intermeddle with the happiness 



144 MADAME ROLAND. 

of any individual, without marring it. I know of 
nothing so agreeable as to be rated at our full 
worth by the people with whom we live ; nor any- 
thing so empty as the admiration of a few persons 
whom we are never likely to meet again. I know 
not what I might have become under the hands of 
a skilful preceptor. By applying diligently to some 
particular study, I might have extended some 
branch of science, or have acquired talents of a 
superior kind. But should I have been better or 
more useful ? I leave others to resolve the question ; 
certain it is, I could not have been more happy. I 
know of nothing to be compared to that plenitude 
of life, of tranquillity, of satisfaction, which I en- 
joyed in those days of innocence and study.' 

The following account gives us reason to suppose 
that her vanity was not wounded by her father's ap- 
preciation of her talents : ' As long as the fine weath- 
er lasted, we went on holidays to the public walks ; 
and my father regularly carried me to the exhibir 
tions of the fine arts, so frequent at Paris in those 
days of luxury, then called prosperity. He enjoy- 
ed himself much on these occasions, when he had 
it in his power to make an agreeable display of his 
superiority, by pointing out to my observation what 
he understood better than I ; and he was as proud 
of the taste I discovered, as if it were his own 
work. That was our point of contact — in those 
cases we were truly in unison. My father never 
lost an opportunity of showing himself to advan- 
tage ; and he was evidently fond of being seen in 



MADAME ROLAND. 145 

public with a well-dressed young woman, whose 
blooming appearance frequently produced a mur- 
mur of admiration grateful to his ears. If any one 
accosted him, doubtful of the relation in which 
we stood to each other, he would say, "My daugh- 
ter" — with an air of modest triumph, which affect- 
ed me, without making me vain, for I ascribed it 
entirely to parental affection. If I spoke, he look- 
ed around to watch the effect of my voice, or of 
the good sense I might have uttered, and seemed 
to ask if he had not reason to be proud. I was sen- 
sible of these things ; and they sometimes made 
me more timid, without producing any awkward 
feeling ; it seemed incumbent upon me to make 
amends for my father's pride by my own modesty.' 
In the following account of her person the fear 
of imputed vanity seems to have been no restraint 
upon entire frankness : 'At fourteen years of age 
I had attained my full height. My stature was 
five feet and nearly four inches, English measure. 
My constitution was as vigorous as that of a prize- 
fighter ; my carriage w-as firm and graceful ; and 
my walk light and quick. My face had nothing 
striking in it, except a great deal of color, and 
much softness and expression. On examining each 
feature, it might be asked, "Where is the beauty ?" 
Not a single one is regular, and yet all please. 
My mouth is a little wide, — ■ you may see prettier 
everyday, — but you will see none with a smile 
more tender or engaging. My eyes are not very 
large, and the color of the iris is hazel ; they are 
10 



146 MADAME ROLAND,' 

sufficiently prominent, and are crowned with well- 
arched eye-brows, which, like my hair, are of a 
dark brown. My look is frank, animated, and 
tender, varying in its expression, like the affection- 
ate heart of which it indicates the movements : 
serious and lofty, it sometimes astonishes ; but it 
charms much more, and never fails to keep atten- 
tion awake. My nose gave me some uneasiness — 
I thought it a little too full at the end ; but taken 
with the rest, especially in profile, the effect is not 
amiss. My forehead, broad and high, — with the 
hair retiring, supported by a very elevated orbit of 
the eye, and marked by veins in the form of a T, 
that dilated on the slightest emotion, — was far from 
making such an insignificant figure, as it does in 
many faces. My complexion was rather clear than 
fair ; and the freshness of my color was frequently 
heightened by the sudden flush of a rapid circula- 
tion, excited by the most irritable nerves. I had a 
smooth skin, a well-turned arm, and a hand which, 
without being small, is elegant, because its long, 
taper fingers give it grace, and indicate address. 
My teeth are white and regular ; and I had the 
plumpness of perfect health. Such are the gifts, 
with which nature had endowed me. I have lost 
many of them ; particularly the fulness of my form, 
and the bloom of my complexion ; but those which 
remain still hide five or six years of my age, with- 
out any assistance from art ; people who are in the 
daily habit of seeing me will hardly believe me to 
be more than two or three and thirty. It is only 



MADAME ROLAND. 147 

since my beauty began to fade, that I know what 
was its extent ; while in its freshness, I was uncon- 
scious of its value, which was probably augmented 
by my ignorance. I do not regret its loss, because 
I have never abused it ; but I certainly should not 
be sorry, provided my duty could be reconciled 
with my inclination, to turn the portion that re- 
mains to better account than my present situation 
admits. My portrait has been frequently drawn, 
painted, and engraved ; but none of these imita- 
tions gives a correct idea of my person.* My 
likeness is very hard to hit, because the expression 
of my soul is more strongly marked than the lines 
of my countenance. An artist of common abilities 
cannot represent this ; possibly he does not even 
see it. My face acquires animation in proportion 
to the interest with which I am inspired, in the 
same manner as my mind is developed in proportion 
to the minds with which I communicate. I am so 
stupid with some people, that upon perceiving my 
readiness with people of wit, I have thought, in the 
simplicity of my heart, that I was indebted to their 
cleverness. I generally please, because I am fear- 
ful of offending ; but it is not given to all to find me 
handsome, or to discover what I am worth. I can 
suppose that an old coxcomb, enamored of himself, 
and vain of displaying the slender stock of science 
he has been so long acquiring, might be in the 
habit of seeing me for ten years without suspecting 

*The cameo o' Lanfflois is said to have been least defective. 



148 MADAME ROLAND. 

I could do more than cast up a bill, or cut out a 
shirt. It was not without reason that Camille Des- 
moulins was astonished that "a^ my age, and with so 
little beauty^' I still had what he calls adorers. I 
never spoke to him in my life ; but it is probable 
that with a personage of his stamp, I should be 
cold and silent, if not absolutely repulsive. He 
was wrong in supposing me to hold a court. I 
hate gallants, as much as I despise slaves ; and I 
know perfectly vv^ell how to get rid of a flatterer. 
What I want is esteem and good will ; admire me 
afterward, if you please ; but esteem and affection 
I must have, at any rate : this seldom fails with 
those who see me often, and who at the same time 
possess a heart and a sound understanding. 

My earnest desire to please, combined with my 
youthful bashfulness and the austerity of my prin- 
ciples, diffused a peculiar charm over my person 
and manner : nothing could be more decent than my 
garb, or more modest than my deportment ; though 
I aspired to nothing beyond neatness in my dress, 
the greatest commendations were bestowed upon 
my good taste.' 

She informs us that suitors came in crowds, like 
bees around a newly expanded flower, and says, ' I 
shall describe the rising of my lovers en masse, as is 
proper in these days when everything is done 
en masse.' Her Spanish music-master, her dancing- 
master (an ugly little Savoyard) three jewellers, 
and two young advocates, were all rejected. She 
came very near marrying a physician, strongly 



MADAME EOLAND. 149 

recommended by her friends. It is no wonder that 
instances of domestic virtue and happiness were 
rare in a country in which matrimonial engage- 
ments were managed as she describes. She says, 
'^ The pecuniary arangements were made before I 
knew anything of the matter, and the hargain was \y 
absokitely conchaded when I first heard that a 
physician had entered the lists. The profession did 
not displease me ; it promised an enlightened mind ; 
but it was necessary to become acquainted with 
his person. We met for the first time, accide"ntally, 
as I supposed, at a house where we had taken shel- 
ter from the rain. My cousin, who had first pro- 
jected the match, was with us. She assumed an 
air of triumph, as if she would have said, '' I did 
not tell you she was handsome ; but what do you 
think of her ?" My good mother looked kind and 
pensive. Our hostess was equally profuse of her 
wit and confectionary. The physician chattered 
away, and made great havoc among the sugar plums ; 
saying, with a sort of school-boy gallantry, that he 
was very fond of everything sweet; upon which the 
young lady observed with a soft voice, a blush, and 
a half smile, that the men were accused of loving 
sweet things, because it was necessary to make use 
of great sweetness in dealing with them. The 
cunning doctor was quite tickled with the epigram. 
My father would willingly have given us his benedic- 
tion on the spot, and was so polite that I was out 
of all patience with him. The doctor retired first, 
to pay his evening visits ; we returned as we came ; 



150 MADAME ROLAND. 

and this vv^as called an interview. My cousin, a 
strict observer of punctilios, so ordered it because, 
forsooth, a man, who has views of marriage, ought 
never to set his foot in a private house, where 
there is a daughter, until his proposals are accepted ; 
but when once that is done, the marriage articles 
are to be signed directly, and the wedding to follow 
immediately. The doctor, in the habiliments of his 
profession, did not please me ; I never, at any 
period of my life, could figure to myself such a 
thing as love in a periwig. My mother urged me 
to decide at once. " What !" I exclaimed, " On 
the strength of a single interview 1" " Not exact- 
ly that," she replied ; '' M. de Gardanne's intimacy 
with our family enables us to judge of his conduct 
and way of life ; and by means of a little inquiry, 
we shall easily come at a knowledge of his disposi- 
tion. These are the principal points. The sight 
of the person is of very little consequence. You 
have attained the proper age to settle in the world : 
you have refused many offers from tradesmen, and 
they are the class of people from whom your situa- 
tion makes it most likely that offers will come. You 
seem determined never to marry a man in business. 
The present match is suitable in every external 
point of view. Take care not to reject it too 
lightly." ' Thus urged. Mademoiselle consented 
to see the doctor at her father's house ; determined, 
however, in her own mind that no power on earth 
should make her marry him, unless she liked him. 
Luckily, she was saved all further trouble by a dis- 



MADAME ROLAND. 151 

pute between her lover and his intended father- 
in-law. 

M. Phlipon thought more of money than any 
other consideration ; he was anxious that his daugh- 
ter should marry a thriving man of business. She 
exclaimed, ' Have I then lived with Plutarch, and 
all the other philosophers, to no better purpose than 
to connect myself for life with a shop-keeper, inca- 
pable of seeing anything in the same light as my- 
self! Tell me, papa, why you suffered me to con- 
tract habits of study ! I know not whom I shall 
marry ; but it must be one who can share my 
thoughts, and sympathize with my pursuits.' He 
replied, * There are men of business possessed of 
politeness and information.' * That may be ; but 
it is not of the kind I want.' ' Do you not suppose 

that M and his wife are happy! They have 

just retired from business, keep an excellent house, 
and receive the best of company.' ^ I am no 
judge of other people's happiness; but my own 
affections are not fixed upon riches. I conceive, 
that the strictest union of hearts is requisite to con- 
jugal felicity. I cannot connect myself with a man 
who does not resemble me. My husband must be 
my superior ; since both nature and the laws give 
him the pre-eminence, I should be ashamed of him 
if he did not really deserve it.' ' I suppose you 
want a Counsellor. But women are not generally 
happy with those learned gentlemen. They have 
a great deal of pride, and very little money.' ^ Papa, 
I do not care about such or such a profession. I 



y 



152 MADAME ROLAND. 

wish to marry a man I can love.' ' But you per- 
sist in thinking such a man will never be found 
in trade. It is, however, a pleasant thing for a 
woman to sit at ease in her own apartment, while 
her husband is carrying on a lucrative trade. 
Now, there's Madame D'Argens —she understands 
diamonds as well as her husband. She can make - 
good bargains in his absence, and could carry on 
all his business perfectly well, if she were left a 
widow. You are intelligent ; and you understand 
that branch of business, since you studied the trea- 
tise on precious stones. You mio;ht do whatever 
you please, A happy life you would have had, if 
you could but have fancied Delorme, Dabrieul, or' — 
'Hark ye, papa — I have discovered that the only 

v/ way to make a fortune in trade is by selling dear 
what has been bought cheap ; by overcharging the 
customer, and beating down the poor workman. 
I could never descend to such practices ; nor could 
I respect a man, who made them his occupation 
from morning till night.' ' Do you then suppose 
there are no honest trademen 1' ' I presume there are ; 
but the number is not large ; and among them I 
am not likely to find a husband, who will sympathize 
with me,' ' And what will you do, if you do not 

y find the idol of your imagination?' ' I will live 
single.' 'Perhaps that will not be so pleasant as 
you imagine. There is time enough yet, to be 
sure ; but ennui will come at last ; the crowd of 
lovers will be gone by ; and you know the fable.' 
^Oh, I would take my revenge by deserving happi- 



MADAME ROLAND. 153 

ness from the very injustice that would deprive me 
of it.' - ' Now you are in the clouds again. It is 
very pleasant to soar to such a height; but it is not 
easy to keep the elevation.' 

Not long after this conversation, a circumstance 
occurred, which gave her father a pleasant oppor- 
tunity of humbling what he considered her romantic 
ideas. I will relate it in her own words : ' I have 
already said that my judicious mother wished me 
to be as much at home in the kitchen, as in the 
drawing-room ; and at market, as in a public walk. 
After my return from the convent, I often used to 
accompany her when she went out to purchase 
household articles ; and as I grew older, she some- 
times sent me on such errands, attended by a maid. 
The butcher, with whom she dealt, had lost a sec- 
ond wife ; and found himself, while still in the 
prime of life, possessed of fifty thousand crowns. 
I was ignorant of all these particulars. ! only per- 
ceived that I was well served, and with abundant 
civility ;' and v/as much surprised at seeing this 
personage frequently appear on Sunday, in a hand- 
some suit of black, with lace ruffles, in the same 
walk with ourselves, and put himself in my mother's 
way; to whom he always made a low bow, without 
accosting her. This practice continued a whole 
summer. I fell sick ; and every morning the butcher 
sent to inquire what we wanted, and to offer any 
accommodation in his power. These pointed atten- 
tions began to provoke my father's smiles. Wish- 
ing to divert himself, he one day introduced me to 



154 MADAME ROLAND. 

a woman, who came to demand my hand in the 
butcher's name. '' You know, daughter," said he, 
with great gravity, " that I make it a rule to lay no 
constraint upon your inclinations. I shall, there- 
fore, only state to you a proposal in which you are 
principally concerned." A little vexed that my 
father's good-humor should turn over to me the 
task of giving an answer, which he ought to have 
taken upon himself, I screwed up my mouth to 
parody his mode of expression. "You know, papa," 
I replied, " that I am very happy in my present sit- 
uation, and resolved not to quit it for some years 
to come. You may take any steps you think pro- 
per in conformity to this resolution." As I said this, 
I withdrew. 

* The respectable character of my mother, the ap- 
pearance of some fortune, and my being an only 
child, made the project of matrimony a tempting 
one to a number of persons, who were strangers to 
me. The greater part, finding it difficult to obtain 
an introduction, adopted the expedient of writing 
to my parents. These letters were always shown 
to me. My first opinion was always grounded 
upon the character of the epistles, without any 
regard to the statements they contained of the wri- 
ter's rank and fortune. I wrote the answers to 
these letters, which my father faithfully copied. 
When writing was in question, he was as tractable 
as a child, and sat down to transcribe without the 
least reluctance. I was much amused at the idea 
of g,cting the papa. I discussed my own interests 



MADAME ROLAND. 155 

with all the gravity suitable to the occasion, and in 
a style of prudence truly parental. I caused my 
suitors to be dismissed with dignity, without giving 
room for resentment or hope. Where there was 
not a large fortune, either possessed or expected, 
my father easily approved of my refusal : but where 
one of those requisites was found, he was much 
concerned at my rejection of the proffered advan- 
tage. Here began to break out those dissensions 
between my father and me, which continued ever 
after. He loved and respected commerce, because 
he regarded it as the source of riches ; I detested 
and despised it, because I considered it as the 
foundation for avarice and fraud. 

' My mother's health began to decline insensibly. 
She had a stroke of the palsy, v/hich they tried to 
make me believe was the rheumatism. Serious 
and taciturn, she every day lost a portion of her 
vivacity, and grew more fond of secluding herself 
from the world. She often lamented that I could 
not prevail on myself to accept any of the offers I 
received. One day in particular, she urged me, 
with melancholy earnestness, to marry an honest 
jeweller, who solicited my hand. " He has in his 
favor," said she, " great reputation for integrity, 
sobriety, and mildness of disposition. He has an 
easy fortune, which may become brilliant; and 
that circumstance makes part of the merit of a 
man, v/ho is not remarkable for his personal advan- 
tages. He knows that yours is not a common mind. 
He professes great esteem for you ; and will no 



V 



156 MADAME ROLAND. 

doubt be proud of following your advice. You 
might lead him in any way you like." " But, mam- 
ma, I do not want a husband who is to be led ; he 
would be too cumbersome a child for me to take 
care of" — " Do you know that you are a very 
whimsical girl ? You would not like a master." — 
" I certainly should not like to have a man give 
himself airs of authority, because that would only 
teach me to resist ; but I am sure I should not like 
a husband whom it would be necessary to govern ; 
I should be ashamed of my own power." " I under- 
stand, you would like to have a man think himself 
the master, while he obeyed you in everything." 
^' No. It is not that, either. I hate servitude, but 
empire would only embarrass me . I wish to gain 
the' affections of a man, who would make his happi- 
ness consist in contributing to mine in the way 
that his good sense and regard for me might dic- 
tate." — " My daughter, there would hardly be such 
a thing in the world as a happy couple, if happiness 
could not exist without such a perfect conformity 
of taste and opinions as you imagine." " I do not 
know of a single one whose happiness I envy." — 
'' But among those matches you do not envy, there 
may be some preferable to always living single. I 
may be called out of the world sooner than you 
imagine. Your father is still young; and you can- 
not imagine all the disagreeable things my fondness 
for you makes me fear. How happy should I be, 
could I see you united to an honest man, before 
I depart this life !" 



MADAME ROLAND, 157 

' The idea of such an event struck me with terror. 
I had never thought of losing my mother — a shiv- 
ering seized my whole frame — and as she tried to 
smile at my wild and eager gaze, I burst into a 
flood of tears. " Do not be alarmed," said she ten- 
derly ; '•' I am not dangerously ill ; but in taking 
our resolutions, we ought to c-alculate all possible 
chances. A worthy man offers you his hand ; you 
are turned of twenty, and cannot expect so many 
suitors as you have had for the last five years ; 
I may be suddenly snatched from you ; do not then 
reject a husband, who, it is true, has not all the 
refinement you wish, but who will love you, and 
with whom you can be happy." " Yes, mamma," 
said I, with a deep sigh, " as happy as you have 
been." My mother was disconcerted ; she made 
■me no reply ; nor did she ever after open her lips 
to urge me on the subject of my marriage. The 
remark escaped me as the expression of an acute 
feeling will sometimes escape us, before we take 
time to reflect ; the effect it produced convinced me 
it was too true. 

' A stranger might have perceived, at the first 
glance, that there was a great difference between 
my father and mother ; but even I had never fully 
calculated all she must have suffered. Accustom- 
ed to profound peace in the house, I could not 
judge the painful efforts it must sometimes have 
cost her to maintain it. My father loved his wife, 
and Vv^as tenderly fond of me. Not even a look of 
discontent ever broke in upon the good humor of 



158 MADAME ROLAND. 

my mother. When she was not of her husband's 
opinion and could not prevail upon him to modify 
it, she always yielded her own without the least 
appearance of reluctance. It was only during the 
latter years of her life, that feeling myself hurt by 
my father's mode of reasoning, I sometimes took 
the liberty to interfere in the discussion. By de- 
grees, I gained a certain sort of ascendence, and 
availed myself of it with considerable freedom. 
Whether it were the novelty of my enterprise that 
confounded him, or whether it were weakness, I 
knew not ; but my father yielded to me more read- 
ily than to his wife. I always exerted my influence 
in her defence, and might not unaptly have been 
termed my mother's watch-dog. It was no longer 
safe to molest her in my presence ; either by bark- 
ing, or by pulling the skirt of the coat, or by show- 
ing my teeth in good earnest, I v/as sure to make 
the assailant let go his hold. But when we were 
alone, not a word was ever said, by either of us, in- 
consistent with the most perfect respect. For her 
sake, I could enter the lists even against her hus- 
band ; but when that husband was absent, he was 
no longer anything but my father, about whom we 
w^ere both silent, unless there was something to 
praise. I could perceive, however, that by de- 
grees he lost his industry. Ambition is generally 
fatal to all classes of men ; multitudes become its 
victims where one is crowned with success. My 
father was happy and prosperous, while he was sat- 
isfied with moderate sains : but the desire of mak- 



MADAME ROLAND. 159 

ing a fortune engaged him in speculations quite 
foreign to his profession ; and that desire made him 
set everything at hazard. Parish business was the 
first thing that called him from home ; and saunter- 
ing abroad afterward became a passion. All public 
spectacles, and everything that was passing out of 
doors, attracted his attention ; connexions at the 
coffee-house led him elsewhere ; and the lottery 
held out temptations he could not resist. In pro- 
portion as his art was less exercised, his talents 
diminished ; his sight grew weak, and his hand lost 
its steadiness. These changes took place by de- 
grees. My mother grew very pensive, and could^ 
not always conceal her anxiety. I forbore speak- 
ing of what neither she nor I could prevent. I w^as 
careful to procure her every satisfaction that de- 
pended upon me. I sometimes consented to leave 
her, in order to persuade my father to walk with 
me. He no longer sou2:ht to have me wdth him : 
but he still took pleasure in attending me. I used 
to bring him back, in a sort of triumph, to that ex- 
cellent mother, whose tender emotions I could easily 
perceive, whenever she saw us both together. We 
W'Ore not always gainers by it ; for my father, that 
he might neither refuse his daughter, nor be dis- 
appointed of his pleasures, would first see me safe 
home, and then go out again, for an instant, as he 
said ; but he would forget the hour, and not return 
until midnight ; in the meantime we had been 
weeping in silence^' 

This was a sad prospect for a wife and mother 



MADAME ROLAND. 



sinking into the tomb faster than her anxious daugh- 
ter was aware of. Just before Whitsuntide, 1775, 
it was agreed that the family should take one of 
their customary excursions into the country. Ma- 
demoiselle Phlipon was troubled with a broken and 
uneasy sleep, during which she had an ill-omened 
dream, that seems to have made an impression on 
her mind quite inconsistent with the scepticism she 
professed. She thought she was returning to Paris 
in the midst of a storm ; and that, upon getting out 
of the boat, a corpse impeded her way. Terrified 
at the sight, she was endeavoring to ascertain 
whose body it could be ; when her mother laid her 
hand lightly upon her, and in her soft voice remind- 
ed her that it was time to rise for their excursion. 
The sleeper awoke much agitated ; and embraced 
her mother as fervently, as if she had rescued her 
from some real danger. The weather was fine, the 
little boat carried them safely to the place of des- 
tination, and the quiet of the rural scenery soon 
restored serenity to her mind. Her mother was 
better for the journey, and resumed something of 
her former activity. Mademoiselle Phlipon had 
promised her friend Agatha that she would visit the 
convent. Her mother intended to accompany her ; 
but being fatigued with previous exertion, she 
changed her mind at the moment of starting, and 
proposed to send the maid with her. Her daugh- 
ter then wished to stay at home ; but Madame 
Phlipon insisted that she should keep her promise 
to her friends at the convent ; and advised her to 



MADAME ROLAND. 161 

take a turn in the Jardin du Roi, before she re- 
turned. 

The visit to Agatha was very brief. ' Why are 
you in such haste 1 ' asked th e nun. ' I am anx- 
ious to return to my mother.' ' But you told me 
she was well.' — ' She is better than usual ; but 
something torments me ; I shall not be easy till I 
see her ag;ain.' Her manner of taking; leave was 
so singular, that Sister Agatha begged to hear from 
her immediately. She hurried home, notwithstand-^ 
ing the observation of the maid that a walk in the 
Jardin du Roi would be extremely pleasant. A 
little girl at the door informed her that her mother 
was very ill. She flew into the room, and found 
her almost lifeless. She tried to embrace her child ; 
but one arm only obeyed the impulse of her will ; 
and with that she Vv'iped av/ay the tears, and gently 
patted her cheek in a vain effort to comfort her. 
She tried to tell how impatiently she had expected 
her ; but palsy tied her tongue and she could only 
utter uncouth sounds. 

As long as there was any demand for her activity. 
Mademoiselle Phlipon never lost her energy, or her 
presence of mind ; but when the priest came to 
administer the sacrament to the dying, and she 
attempted to hold the light, with her eyes riveted 
on her beloved parent, anguish proved too strong 
for nature, and she fell senseless on the floor. 
From this state she awoke to find that her mother 
was dead. Sorrow for a time made her perfectly 
delirious. During one of her fainting fits, they 
11 



162 MADAME ROLAND. 

conveyed her to the house of one of her relatives. 
For eight days she was unable to shed a tear ; she 
was often seized with strong convulsions, and the 
physicians thought her life was in great d. nger. 
At last, a letter from her friend Sophia made her 
weep ; and the alarming symptoms abated ; a re- 
newal of the fits was, however, for several weeks 
produced by any circumstanc that served to re- 
mind her of her loss. Her father tried to comfort 
her by telling her what a blessing it was that her 
mother had lived to educate her ; and that if she 
must lose one of her parents, it was better the one 
should remain, who could most benefit her fortune. 
This consolatory argument, so little suited to her 
character and condition, only served to aggravate 
her grief. She felt that her father never could 
understand her, and thaf she was entirely an orphan. 
Speaking of her mother, she says, ' The world 
never contained a better, or more amiable woman. 
Nothing brilliant rendered her remarkable, but 
everything tended to endear her, as soon as she was 
known. Naturally wise and good, virtue never 
seemed to cost her any effort. Her pure and tr n- 
quil spirit pursued its even course like the docile 
stream that bathes with equal gentleness the foot of 
the rock, which holds it captive, and the valley 
which it at once enriches and adorns. With her 
death concluded the tranquillity of my youthful 
existence, passed in the enjoyment of blissful af- 
fections and beloved occupations.' 

The relatives of Mademoiselle Phlipon tried to 



MADAME ROLAND. 163 

cheer her spirits by inviting everybody with whom 
she was acquainted ; but she had so little power of 
attending to others that she sometimes appeared 
insane. If anything happened, however remotely, 
to remind her of her mother's image, she shrieked 
and fainted away. ' It is a good thing to possess 
sensibility, it is unfortunate to have so much of it/ 
said her friend, the Abbe Legrand. He had sa- 
gacity enough to perceive that it was wise to talk to 
her a good deal about her mother, in order that 
her mind might freely unburthen itself of a sub- 
ject alike interesting and oppressive. As soon as 
he thought she could fix her attention on a book, 
he brought her Rousseau's Heloise. It is not a 
volume I should have thought of selecting to afford 
consolation to a mourner ; but she says the inter- 
est with which she read it was the first alleviation 
of her sorrow. 

When she returned home, she found that her 
mother's portrait had been removed ; from the mis- 
taken idea that the vacant space it once occupied 
would be less painful to her than the image of her 
deceased parent. Her first care was to have it 
restored. 

Her excessive grief excited a good deal of at- 
tention. It was thought a very remarkable thing 
that filial regret should endanger the life of a young 
woman. Amoncf the marks of reo-ard she received 
at this time, the most flattering was from M. de 
Boismorel, son of the lady to whom she took such 
a dislike in her childhood. Her father, flattered 



164 MADAME ROLAND. 

by M. de Boismorel's good opinion of his daugh- 
ter, could not refrain from showing him some of her 
writings, one day when she was absent. She was 
a good deal offended at this attack upon her private 
property; but was soothed by a very flattering 
letter from M. de Boismorel, offering the use of 
his library at all times. She says this was the first 
time her self-love was gratified by finding herself 
appreciated by one on whose judgment she placed 
a high value. A friendly correspondence continued 
between them during his life ; by means of which 
she was constantly acquainted with the novelties 
of the literary and scientific world. He advised 
her to commence author in good earnest, after hav- 
ing deliberately chosen the line of literature best 
suited to her taste. In answer to this proposition 
she r-epresented to him her disinterested love of 
study, and her aversion to appearing before the 
public. In this reply she wrote the following 



verses 



V 



Aux hommes ouvrant la carriere 
Des grands et des nobles talents, 
lis n'ont mis aucune barriere 
A leur plus sublimes elans. 

De mon sexe foible et sensible, 
lis ne veulent que des vertus ; 
Nous pouvons imiter Titus, 

Mais dans un sentier moins penible. 

Jouissez du bien d' etre admis 
A toutes ces sortes de gloire ; 
Pour nous le temple de m6moire 
Est dans les coeurs de nos amis. 



MADAME ROLAND. 165 

These lines have been translated with something 
more of vigorous thought, though with less smooth- 
ness in the versification : 

To man's aspiring sex 'tis given 
To climb the highest hill of fame, 

To tread the shortest road to heaven, 
And gain by death a deathless name. 

Of well-fought fields, and trophies won, 
The memory lives while ages pass, 

Graven on everlasting stone, 
Or written on retentive brass. 

But to poor feeble woman-kind 

The meed of glory is denied ; ■ 
Within a narrow sphere confined, 
. The lowly virtues are their pride. ' 

Yet not deciduous is their fame, 

Ending where frail existence ends ; 

A sacred temple holds their name — 
The hearts of their surviving friends. 

M. de Boismorel had so high an opinion of his 
young friend, that notwithstanding the difference of 
rank, he cherished the wish of uniting her to his 
son, who was younger than she was, and being 
indolent and inconsiderate, seemed to need a de- 
cided and judicious wife. Mademoiselle Phlipon, 
however, did not take a fancy to this young sprig of 
aristocracy ; and her discreet friend had too much 
delicacy to make regular proposals to her father, 
which he knew she would be painfully urged to 
accept. 

Tha young lady, finding her parental home a 



166 MADAME ROLAND. 

desolate place, did sometimes feel a sensation of 
melancholy, when she cast her eyes around upon 
her acquaintance without finding one at all suited 
to her taste. A young lawyer, who had once been 
rejected, renewed his visits ; and her romantic 
sensibility gradually invested him with powerful 
attractions. Her father, at first, made it a rule to 
stay in the room when any gentleman came ; but 
finding it very dull business to act the duenna, he 
shut his door against everybody, except those whose 
age and gravity rendered his presence unnecessary. 
Mademoiselle Phlipon wrote to her lover that it was 
her father's wish that he should discontinue his 
visits, but left him reason to conclude that they 
were by no means unpleasant to her. This ro- 
mance lasted but a short time. Her friend, Sophia 
Cannet, came to visit her ; and having met the 
young lawyer in the gardens of the Luxembourg, 
she pointed him out as a notorious fortune-hunter, 
who had proposed himself to so many only daugh- 
ters, that the heiresses had agreed to bestow upon 
him the title of lover, of the eleven thousand virgins ; 
this name had reference to a legend told in the 
convents, of the miraculous martyrdom of eleven 
thousand virgins. This account dispelled the illu- 
sions of sentiment. The young man, having form- 
ed an acquaintance with a girl reputed to have 
more fortune, troubled her no further for several 
months ; at the end of which time, he had the 
audacity to call and request her assistance in a 
literary project he had undertaken ; he was received 



MADAME ROLAND. 167 

with a stinging contempt, which soon terminated 
his visit. This man was La Blancherie, afterward 
Agent of the Correspondence for forwarding the 
Arts and Sciences. 

After the death of her mother, Mademoiselle 
Phlipon was most affectionately attended by a be- 
loved cousin, named Madame Trude. This lady 
had a vulgar and brutal husband, entirely unworthy 
of her ; her unhappiness was considerably increased 
by his daring to entertain a violent passion for her 
cousin. As Trude had no children, and had some 
fortune, M. Phlipon was anxious to be particularly 
polite to him ; and this circumstance increased the 
embarrassment of his daucrhter's situation. She 
tried to bear with him for the sake of his worthy 
wife ; but his attentions at last became insupporta- 
ble. In plain terms she asked him to confine his 
visits to her father ; but she says if she had thrown 
him out of the window, he would have come back 
by the chimney. Sometimes, on Sundays, she sent 
away the maid, and fastened every door and win- 
dow, to be free from his interruptions ; and after 
walking round the house two or three hours, he 
would reluctantly retire. She used to manage vis- 
its to his wife, at the house of one of their aged 
relations. Although the dignity of her deportment 
prevented this man from ever saying anything 
offensive to modesty, yet his manners and conver- 
sation were so much at variance with propriety 
and good-breeding, that he was a perpetual torment 
to her. From these connexions her pride met with 



168 MADAME fiOLAND. 

a severe trial; and the manner in which she con- 
ducted herself does credit to the strength of her 
chasacter. Madame Trude was compelled to leave 
home for a few weeks ; but her surly husband 
would not consent that she should leave his counter, 
unless Mademoiselle Phlipon would agree to take 
her place, in the middle of the day, when customers 
would be most likely to come in. Madame Trude 
begged her to accede to this proposition ; and she 
felt that the obligations she owed to her cousin's 
friendship rendered it a duty. Trude, highly de- 
lighted, and not a little proud, conducted with great 
propriety, and his wife was deeply grateful for the 
kindness. Thus Madame Roland says, 'In spite 
of my aversion to trade, it was decreed that, at one 
time in my life, I should sell watch-glasses and 
spectacles. The situation was not agreeable. I 
can conceive nothing more dreadful, to a person 
standing in an open shop, than the noise of car- 
riages eternally rolling along. I should soon have 
been deaf, as my poor cousin Trude now is.' 

At this period of her life, she had occasional 
glimpses of the great world, through the friendship 
of M. de Boismorel. His proud mother began to 
think her of more consequence than she had for- 
merly done ; and gave her occasional invitations 
to visit at her house. She sometimes complains 
that the company invited to meet them was better 
suited to her father than herself; but when she did 
meet with any of the nobility, she seems to have 
regarded them with all her early dislike. She says, 



MADAME ROLAND. 169 

* The old marquises and antiquated dowagers cer- 
tainly talked with more importance than church- 
wardens and sober cits, but to me they appeared 
quite as insipid. — Madame de Boismorel, eulogiz- 
ed my taste in dress. " You don't love feathers, do 
you Mademoiselle ? Ah, how different you are 
from giddy-headed girls V " I never wear feathers, 
madam, because I think they would announce a 
condition in life, that does not belong to an artist's 
daughter, going about on foot." " But would you 
wear them if you were in a different situation ?" " I 
do not know whether I should or not. I attach 
very little importance to such trifles. I merely 
consider what is suitable to myself; and should be 
very sorry to judge of others by the superficial in- 
formation afforded by their dress." The answer 
was severe ; but its point was blunted by the soft 
tone of voice in which it was pronounced. I was 
like the good man, of whom Madame de Sevigne 
said that the love of his neighbor cut off half his 
words. A fondness for satire indicates a mind 
pleased with irritating others ; for myself, I never 
could find amusement in killing flies. I deserved 
the character given me by one of my friends, that 
though possessed of wit to point an epigram, I 
never suffered one to escape my lips.' 

Madame Roland gives an account of a visit to a 
wealthy family, which is interesting as it serves to 
show the state of things in France at that period. 
One of her connexions had married M. Besnard, 
who had been a steward in the family of M. HaU"» 



170 MADAME ROLAND. 

dry, a rich financier. Old Madame Phlipon was 
highly offended at this marriagB ; but Madame 
Roland says, ' I esteem it an honor to be related 
to.M. Besnard ; and I should do so, if, with the 
same character and conduct, he had been a foot- 
man. In his attachment to his wife he showed 
the greatest delicacy of sentiment ; it is impossible 
to carry veneration and tenderness to a greater 
length. Enjoying the sweets of a perfect union, 
they live in their old age like Baucis and Philemon, 
attracting the respect of all who witness the sim- 
plicity and excellence of their lives.' 

As Mademoiselle Phlipon' s health was consider- 
ed precarious, the physicians advised change of 
air ; and it was agreed that she and her Aunt 
Angelica should visit M. Besnard, at Fontenay, 
near the Chateau of Souci. The family at the 
Chateau, hearing of their arrival called to see them. 
Madame Penault, — whose daughter had married 
Haudry's son, — allowed something of condescen- 
sion to mix with her politeness; while the con- 
sciousness of worth, and the doubt of its being 
perceived by others, gave unusual dignity to the 
artist's daughter. The strangers were invited to 
dine. Madame Roland says, ' Never was astonish- 
ment equal to mine, when I learned that we were 
not to dine at her table, but with the upper ser- 
vants in the hall. I was sensible, however, that as 
M. Besnard had formerly played a part there, I 
ought not to appear dissatisfied, out of respect to 
him. I thought Madame Penault might have 



MADAME ROLAND. . 171 

spared us the contemptuous civility ; my great- 
aunt had the same opinion ; but to avoid giving 
offence, we accepted the invitation. It was some- 
thing entirely new to me to mix with those deities 
of the second order; I had no idea what chamber- 
maids were, when they undertook to give them- 
selves airs of consequence. They acted their su- 
periors well. Dress, gesture, affectation — nothing 
was forgotten. The caricature of fashionable man- 
ners superadded a sort of elegance, not less foreign 
to mercantile simplicity, than to the taste of an 
artist. It was still worse with the men. The 
sword of the steward, the attentions of the cook, 
and the gaudy clothes of the valet-de-chambre, 
could not atone for the vulgarity of their expres- 
sions, when they forgot their parts, or for the blun- 
ders they made when they wished their language 
to be elegant. The conversation \y3ls full of mar- 
quises and counts, whose titles seemed to confer 
grandeur on those who talked of them. Play fol- 
lowed the repast ; the stake was high ; it was what 
the ladies were accustomed to play for, and they 
played every day. I was introduced to a new world, 
in which were exhibited the vices, prejudices and 
follies of the fashionable world, — very little better 
in reality, notwithstanding its greater show. 

Young Haudry was a spoiled child of fortune, 
with an erect carriage, and the airs of a great 
man ; perhaps he was amiable among those he es- 
teemed his equals ; but I hated to come in his 
way, and always assumed an air of dignified re- 



/• 



172 MADAME ROLAND. 

serve when he approached. I had heard of the 
origin of old Haudry a hundred times : He came 
from his village to Paris, and by raking together 
thousands at the expense of the public, found 
means to marry his grand-daughters to Counts 
and Marquises. I recollected Montesquieu's ex- 
pression, that ' financiers support the state, as the 
cord supports the criminal.' I could not help 
thinking that the government must be detestable, 
and the nation very corrupt, where tax-gatherers 
make their opulence a means of alliance with fami- 
lies, which court-policy affects to consider as ne- 
cessary to the defence and splendor of the kingdom. 
I little thought then, that there could be a govern- 
ment more horrible — a degree of corruption still 
more to be deplored. Who indeed could have im- 
agined it, before the days of Danton and Robes- 
pierre ? ' 

The dissipated habits of M. Phl-ipon were some- 
what checked by the death of his excellent wife ; 
but after a while they regained their ' power over 
him. In vain his daughter tried to render his 
home agreeable. Having few ideas in common 
with him, she proposed cards evening after evening, 
notwithstanding her aversion to the game ; but this, 
and all her other efforts, were of no avail. He 
had become attached to society as unsuited to the 
intelligence of his daughter as it had been to the 
refinement of his wife. In an ill-assorted marriage 
the virtue of one party may keep up an appearance 
of happiness, but inconveniences will, sooner or 



MADAME ROLAND. 173 

later, result from a union defective in its very foun- 
dation. 

In France, the wife's fortune and her per- 
sonal effects are generally secured by the marriage- 
contract to her children, or restored to her re- 
lations, in case she dies childless. The relations 
of Mademoiselle Phlipon, being honest, confiding 
people, neglected to demand an inventory at the 
time of her mother's decease; and she felt a sense 
of impropriety in doing it herself At last his in- 
creasing profligacy made the step absolutely ne- 
cessary. At the risk of incurring his displeasure, 
she took the requisite means, and was enabled to se- 
cure to herself five hundred livres (about one hun- 
dred dollars,) a year ; this with a few articles of 
furniture, was all that remained of the apparent 
opulence in which she had been educated. It was 
the more necessary to reserve this pittance for her- 
self, as her father's unkindness increased in pro- 
portion to his irregularity of life ; he was even un- 
willing to pay the postage of her letters. 

In the midst of these trials, literature was a 
never failing resource and consolation. She saw 
scarcely any company except her aged relatives, 
and divided her time between her domestic duties 
and her books. She read the most celebrated of 
the French preachers, wrote criticisms on Bourda- 
loue, and herself composed a moral sermon, on the 
subject of brotherly love. She likewise wrote a 
dissertation on a subject proposed by the Academy 
of Besancon, — Hoio can tJie Education of 'Women 
he made to conduce to the Improvement of 3Ien ? 



174 MADAME ROLAND. 

In this dissertation, she attempted to prove that a 
new order of things was necessary ; that it was 
useless to attempt the reformation of one sex by 
means of the other, until the condition of the whole 
species was ameliorated by good laws. 

She still continued her correspondence with 
Sophia Cannet, for whom she cherished unabated 
friendship. This young lady often mentioned in 
her letters a gentleman, who visited her father; 
she represented him as universally esteemed for his 
good sense and integrity, though he sometimes gave 
offence by severity bordering on sarcasm. Sophia 
had shown, him the portrait of her friend Mary (or 
Molly) Jane Phlipon, and had talked much to him 
of her talents and her virtues. ' Shall I never have 
a letter to this charming friend ? ' he used to say : 
' I go every year to Paris — why do you not make 
me acquainted with her 1 ' In December, 1775, he 
obtained the desired commission. The letter of in- 
troduction was thus worded : 'You will receive this 
from the hands of M. Roland de la Platiere, the 
philosopher I have mentioned to you. He is an en- 
lightened man, of spotless reputation, who can be 
reproached with nothing but his too great admira- 
tion for the ancients, at the expense of the moderns, 
whom he undervalues ; and with being too fond of 
speaking of himself.' 

Roland was born of an opulent family, which 
had for several centuries been ennobled by offices, 
that they had not power to transmit to their heirs. 
This lasted as long as wealth enabled them to sup- 



MADAME ROLAND. 175 

port all the outward signs of rank, such as arms, 
liveries, &c. But the fortune was wasted by prod- 
igality and bad management; and Jean-Marie Ro- 
land de la Platiere found himself the youngest of 
five brothers, with nothino; but his own enerories to 
rely upon. At the age of nineteen, he left the pa- 
ternal roof, friendless and alone. Being averse to 
commerce, and unwilling to enter the church, he 
made preparations to go out to India ; this project 
was prevented by an illness which would have 
made it death to venture on the sea. Having a 
relation who was an inspector of manufactures, he 
was induced to enter into that department of busi- 
ness, in which he soon distinguished himself by his 
activity and skill. When he first became acquaint- 
ed with Mademoiselle Phlipon, he was in the lu- 
crative office of Inspector General of Manufactures 
at Amiens. He divided his time between travellinor 

o 

and study. Taking great interest in all subjects 
connected with political economy, he wrote several 
pamphlets on commerce, the mechanical arts, the 
management of sheep, 6lc ; in consequence of 
which he belonged to several scientific societies. 
During his visits to Paris he had frequent opportu- 
nities of seeing Mademoiselle Phlipon, then in her 
twentysecond year, with a mind fully matured, and 
a person uninjured by time. His frank and in- 
structive conversation pleased her ; and he was de- 
lighted with her, because she was a good listener ; 
a faculty by which she says she gained more friends 
than by her facility in speaking. He had made a 



176 MADAME ROLAND. 

' tour in Germany, of which he kept a journal ; and 
this, with other manuscripts, he confided to the 
care of Mademoiselle Phlipon, when he departed 
for Italy in the autumn of 1776. She says, 
.. * These manuscripts made me better acquaint- 
ed with him, during the eighteen months he 
passed in Italy, than frequent visits could have 
done. They consisted of travels, reflections, plans 
of literary works, and personal anecdotes ; a strong 
mind, strict principles, learning, and taste, were 
evident in every page. Before his departure for 
Italy, he introduced me to his best-beloved brother, 
a Benedictine monk, who sometimes came to see 
me, and communicated the notes his brother trans- 
mitted to him. These notes were afterward pub- 
lished in the form of letters on Italy, Switzerland, 
Sicily and Malta. A friend, who had the care of 
printing them, injudiciously loaded them with Ital- 
ian quotations. This work, abounding m matter, 
wants only to be better digested to hold the highest 
rank among books of the kind. On M. Roland's 

' return, I found myself possessed of a friend. The 
gravity of his manners and his studious habits in- 
spired the utmost confidence. It was several years 

- after our acquaintance began, before he declared 
himself a lover. I did not hear it with indifference, 
because I esteemed him more than any man I had 
yet seen ; but I had remarked that neither he nor 
his family were indifferent to worldly considera- 
tions. I frankly told him that I felt honored by 
his addresses, and that I should be happy to make 



MADAME ROLAND. 177 

him a return for his affection ; but that my father 
was a ruined man, and his errors and debts might 
bring further disgrace upon those connected M^ith 
him. I was too proud to enter a family that might 
feel degraded by my alliance, or to make the gen- 
erosity of my husband a source of mortification to 
him. M. Roland persisted ; I was moved by his 
entreaties, and consented that he should make his 
proposals in form. As soon as he returned to 
Amiens, he wrote to my father, making known his 
wishes. My father thought the letter dry ; he did 
not like a son-in-law of such rigid principles He 
answered the letter in rude, impertinent terms. I 
wrote to M. Roland, telling him the event had jus- 
tified my fears respecting my parent, and that I 
begged him to abandon his design, because I did 
not wish to be the occasion of his receiving further 
affronts. I informed my father of this proceeding, 
and told him that he could not be surprised at my 
wish to retire to a convent. 

In order to satisfy his creditors, I left him my 
share of the plate. I hired a little apartment in 
the convent of the Congregation, and there took 
up my abode, with a firm resolution to regulate my 
expenses according to my little income. Potatoes, 
rice, and beans, with a sprinkling of salt and a 
little butter, varied my food, and were cooked with 
small loss of time. I went out but twice a week ; 
once to visit my aged relations ; and once to my 
father's, to look over the linen, and take away 
what needed mending. It was winter, and I was 
12 



178 MADAME ROLAND. 

lodged near the sky, under a roof of snow. 1 re- 
fused to mix habitually with the boarders ; devot- 
ing all my leisure time to my studies, I steeled my 
heart against adversity, and avenged myself on fate 
by deserving the happiness it did not bestow. My 
kind Agatha passed an hour with me every even- 
ing. A few turns in the garden, when everybody 
was out of the way, constituted my solitary walks. 
The resignation of a patient temper, the quiet of a 
good conscience, the elevation of spirit, which sets 
misfortune at defiance, the laborious habits that 
make time pass so rapidly, the delicate taste of a 
sound mind finding pleasures in the consciousness 
of existence and of its own value, which the vulgar 
never know,^ — these were my riches. I was not 
always free from melancholy ; but even melancholy 
had its charms. Though T was not happy, I had 
within me all the means of being so ; and I had 
reason to be proud that I knew how to do without 
the external things I wanted. M. Roland, sur- 
prised and afflicted, continued to write to me with 
constant affection, but expressing himself highly 
offended at my father's conduct. At the expiration 
of five or six months, he came to visit me and felt 
the flame of love revive on seeing me at the grate, 
where I still retained some appearance of prosperity. 

J He again offered me his hand, and urged me to re- 
ceive the nuptial benediction from his brother the 
prior. I entered into deep deliberation concerning 
what I ought to do. I could not help being sensi- 

^/ ble that a younger man would not have waited so 



MADAME ROLAND. 179 

long without endeavoring to make me change my 
resolution. I readily confess that this considera- 
tion dispelled all illusion from my sentiments. On 
the other hand, I considered that his perseverance 
was the fruit of mature deliberation, and proved his 
sense of my merit. Since he had overcome his 
repugnance to the disagreeable circumstances, that 
might attend the match, I was the more secure of 
his esteem, which I should not find it dijSicult to 
justify. Besides, if matrimony were a partnership, 
in which the woman generally undertakes to pro- 
vide for the happiness of both parties, was it not 
better to exert my faculties in that honorable con- 
dition, than in the forlorn and ascetic life I was 
leading in the convent ? ' 

They were married in the winter of 1779 - 80. 
She was twentyfive years of age, and he was 
nearly fortyseven. The following is M. Roland's 
portrait, by his wife. ' He was tall and negligent 
in his carriage, w4th that stiffness, which is often 
contracted by study. His manners were easy and 
simple, without possessing the fashionable graces ; 
he combined the politeness of a well-bred man with 
the gravity of a philosopher. Want of flesh, a 
complexion accidentally yellow, a forehead very 
high and thinly covered with hair, did not destroy 
the effect of a regular set of features, though it 
rendered them rather respectable than engaging. 
His smile was very expressive ; and when he grew 
animated in conversation, or an agreeable idea 
crossed his mind, his whole face was lighted up. 



180 MADAME ROLAND. 

His conversation was full of interesting matter be- 
cause his head was full of ideas ; but it occupied 
the mind more than it pleased the ear, because his 
language though sometimes impressive, was always 
monotonous and harsh. In marrying him I be- 
came the wife of a truly worthy man, who con- 
tinued to love me more the better he knew me. 
Although married at a mature age, I fulfilled my 
duties with an ardor that was rather the effect of 
enthusiasm than of calculation. By studying my 
partner's happiness, I discovered that something 
was wanting to my own. I have never for a mo- 
ment ceased to consider my husband the most es- 
timable of human beings, as a man to whom I 
might be proud of belonging ; but T have often felt 
the disparity between us. He was more than twenty 
years older than myself; and this, combined with 
the ascendency of an imperious temper, constituted 
too great superiority. If we lived in solitude, I 
sometimes had disagreeable hours to pass ; if we 
mixed with the world, I was beloved by persons, 
some of whom appeared likely to take too strong 
hold of my affections. I immersed myself in study 
with my husband, to such a degree that my health 
suffered. Accustomed to have me share with him 
all his pursuits, he learned to think he could not do 
without me at any time, or on any occasion, 

' We passed the first year of our marriage entirely 
at Paris, whither Roland had been sent for by the 
board of trade, who were desirous of making some 
new regulations concerning manufactures ; regula- 



MADAME ROLAND. 181 

tions which Roland's principles of liberty made him 
oppose with all his might. He was printing an 
account of some of the arts, which he had written 
for the academy, and taking a fair copy of hia 
Italian notes. He made me his copyist and the 
corrector of the press. I executed the task with a 
degree of humility, at which I cannot help laughing 
when I recollect it; it seems almost irreconcilable 
with a mind so active as mine ; but it flowed direct- 
ly from my hearl. I so sincerely respected my 
husband, that I easily believed him to know every- i^' 
thing better than I could. At the same time, he 
was so tenacious of his opinions, and I was so 
afraid of a cloud upon his brow, that it was long 
before I had confidence enough to contradict him. '^ 
I was then attending a course of lectures on natu- 
ral history and botany. These were the only re- 
creations I enjoyed after the employments of secre- 
tary and house-keeper. We lived at ready-furnish- 
ed lodgings during our stay in Paris; and perceiv- 
ing that all kinds of cooking did not agree with 
my husband's delicate constitution, I took care to 
prepare the food that best suited him. We passed 
four years at Amiens, where I became a mother 
and a nurse, without ceasing to partake of my 
husband's labors. He had engaged to write a con- 
siderable part of the new Encyclopedia ; we never 
stirred from the desk except to take a walk out of 
the gates of the town, for the purpose of studying 
botany. Frequent sickness alarmed me for Ro- 
land's life. My cares were not ineffectual, and 



182 MADAME ROLAND. 

they served to strengthen the tie that united us. 
He loved me for my boundless attention, and I was 
attached to him by the good I did him.' 

A letter from Madame Roland to one of her 
friends shows that she lost nothing of her republi- 
can zeal by associating with a husband, whose en- 
thusiasm for liberty was quite equal to her own. 

'Dear Friend, — I inclose a letter from M. 
Gosse, from which you will learn how the combin-, 
ed forces of France, Savoy and Berne behaved 
when they took possession of Geneva. I was out 
of all patience in reading it. The very idea still 
makes the blood boil in my veins. It is clear Ge- 
neva was no longer worthy of liberty — we see 
nothing like the energy it required to defend so 
dear a property, or die beneath its ruins. I have 
only the greater hatred for its oppressors, whose in- 
fectious neighborhood had corrupted the republic 
before they came to put an end to its existence. 
Gosse tells me that the friend who was with him 
at Paris is of the aristocratic party. They hold no 
intercourse since the overthrow of liberty, lest their 
opposite tempers of mind should produce a disa- 
greeable altercation. I would have laid a wager 
it would have taken place. His friend is that M. 
Coladon, whom I used to call Celadon, whose only 
merit is that of being a pretty fellow. His servile 
air and supple demeanor bespoke him a slave at 
first sight. I would not give a cripple, of the same 
cast as Gosse, for a hundred of him. Virtue and 



MADAME ROLAND 183 

liberty have no longer an asylum, unless in the 
hearts of a small number of honest men. A fig 
for the rest — and for all the thrones in the world ! 
I would tell a king so to his face. From a woman, 
it would only be laughed at ; but, by my soul, if I 
had been at Geneva, I would have died before they 
should have laughed at me.' 

In the early part of her union, M. Roland had 
required her to withdraw considerably from her in- 
timate friends ; but time gave him confidence in 
her auctions, and removed his fear of being rival- 
led. By his advice, she made a visit to her friend 
Sophia, early in the summer of 1783. A letter 
from this place breathes a more feminine strain 
than the preceding. The acknowledgment that ^ 
society was dangerous to her, because she met ob- 
jects likely to engross her affections, contrasts oddly 
enough with the sincere attachment to M. Roland 
expressed in the following epistle : an American , 
wife cannot understand such things. 

' Sailly, near Corbie. 

* I do not know the day of the month. All I can 
tell you is, that we are in the month of June ; that 
yesterday was a holiday ; and that according to 
our reckoning here it is three o'clock in the after- 
noon. On Sunday I had a visit from my good man, 
who left me again yesterday evening. I have noth- 
ing to send in return for your news. I do not trou- 
ble my head about politics ; and I am no longer 



184 MADAME ROLAND. 

in the way of picking up any of another kind. I 
can only entertain you with an account of the 
dogs that wake me, of the birds that console me 
for not being able to sleep again, of the cherry- 
trees that are opposite my windows, and of the 
heifers that graze before the door. I am under 
the roof of a friend, on whom I fixed my affections 
when in a convent at eleven years of age, with for- 
ty other girls, who thought of nothing but romping 
to dispel the gloom of the cloister. In days of yore, 
I was devout like Madame Guyon ; my companion 
was a little mystical also ; and our friendship was 
fed by the same sensibility that made us religious 
to distraction. After her return to her own part of 
the country, she made me acquainted with M. Ro- 
land,- by entrusting him with the delivery of her 
letters. Judge whether I ought not to love and 
cherish her for this ! This friend is lately married ; 
and I had some share in inducing her to do so. I 
am now visiting her in the country, which I have 
often represented to her as the abode best suited to 
a virtuous mind. I walk over her estate ; I count 
her poultry ; we gather fruit in the garden; — and 
we are of opinion that all this is well worth the 
gravity with which fashionables sit round the card- 
table — the necessity of passing half the day in the 
important business of dressing, — the prittle-prattle 
of fops, — &c, — &c. Notv/ithstanding all this, I 
feel a longing desire to return to Amiens, because 
only one half of me is here. My friend forgives 
me ; for her husband being absent, she is better 



MADAME ROLAND. 185 

able to judge of my privations. We find it very 
comfortable to condole with each other ; but we 
perfectly agree in the opinion, that to be at a dis- 
tance from the dovecot, or to be there alone, is a 
very miserable thing. I am, however, to pass the 
whole week here. I do not know whether my health 
will be as much benefited as my good man hoped. 
I have laid aside all study for three days, without 
feeling any wonderful advantage. I was pretty well 
satisfied with the looks of our friend, when he was 
here ; but I dread his study as I dread fire. The 
week I have to pass here seems an eternity to me, 
on account of the mischief he may do himself while 
I am gone. Your description of your laborious 
life answers very little purpose. I do not pity you 
at all. In my opinion, to be busy is to be half-way 
toward happiness.' 

Having become engaged in a playful warfare 
with the same friend concerning the equality of the 
sexes, she thus writes : ' What is the deference 
paid by your sex to mine, but the indulgence shown 
by powerful magnanimity to the weak whom it pro- 
tects and honors ? When you assume the tone of 
masters, you make us recollect that we are able to 
resist you, and perhaps to do more, notwithstand- 
ing all your strength. Do you pay us homage 1 
It is Alexander treating his prisoners (who are not 
ignorant of their dependance) with the respect due 
to queens. In this single particular, civilization 
goes hand in hand with nature. The laws place 



186 MADAME ROLAND 

US in a state of almost constant subjection ; while 
custom grants us all the honors of society. We 
are nothing in reality ; in appearance we are every- 
thing. Do not then any longer imagine that I 
form a false estimate of what ive have a right to re- 
quire, or of what it becomes you to claim, I be- 
lieve that I will not say more than any woman, but 
as much as any man, with regard to the superiority 
of your sex. In the first place, you have strength, 
with all the advantage that it confers ; courage, 
perseverance, extensive views, and great talents. 
It belongs to you to make political laws, as well as 
scientific discoveries ; to govern the world, change 
the surface of the globe, be magnanimous, terrible, 
skilful and learned. You are all this without our 
assistance ; and this no doubt makes you our mas- 
ters. But without us, you would be neither virtu- 
ous, nor kind, nor amiable, nor happy. Keep then 
to yourselves glory and authority of all kinds. We 
desire no empire but over manners — no throne but 
in your hearts. I am sorry to see women some- 
times contend for privileges that become them so 
ill. There is not one of those privileges, even to 
the title of author, that does not seem to me ridic- 
ulous in female hands. To make one person hap- 
py, and to bind a number together by the charms 
of friendship, and by winning ways, is the most 
enviable destiny that can be conceived. Let us 
live in peace ; only recollect that to keep the high 
ground you stand upon in relation to woman-kind, 
I be cautious of making them feel your superiority. 



MADAME ROLAND. 187 

The war in which I have engaged you for amuse- 
ment, and with all the fieedom of an old friend, 
would be carried on in a more serious manner by 
an artful coquette ; nor Vv'ould you leave the field 
without a Avound. Protect always, that you may 
submit when you please ; that is the secret of your 
sex. But what a pretty simpleton I am to be tell- 
ing you all this !' 

She thus describes her visit to the tomb of Rous- 
seau : ' The valley in which Ermenonville is situa- 
ted is the most miserable thing in the world. Black 
and muddy water ; no prospect ; not a single view 
of rich and cultivated fields ; low, marshy meadows, 
and woods in which you seem buried. The Isle of 
Poplars, in the midst of a noble piece of water, 
surrounded with trees, is the most agreeable and 
interesting spot in all Ermenonville, independently 
of the object that has so much attraction for thought- 
ful minds and feeling hearts. If Rousseau, how- 
eTer, had not given it celebrity, I doubt whether 
any one would have gone out of his way to visit it. 
We went into the master's room, which is no lon- 
ger inhabited, and in which Rousseau must have 
been buried alive without air or prospect. He is 
now more handsomely accommodated than he ever 
was while living. 

' Our excursions have been delightful. But when 
I returned, poor Eudora did not remember her 
afflicted mother. I expected to be forgotten : but 
nevertheless I wept like a child. Alas ! said I to 
myself, I fare no better than mothers who do not 



188 MADAME ROLAND. 

nurse their children though I deserve something 
better.* The little creature's affection for me was 
interrupted by the suspension of the habit of see- 
ing me. When I think of it, my heart is ready to 
break. My child has resumed her customary ca- 
resses ; but I no longer dare to believe in the senti- 
ment, from which they derived their value. I wish 
she were still an infant, and still depended upon me 
for her nourishment.' 

In 1784, Madame Holand accompanied her 
husband in a journey to England. Of this excur- 
sion, she says, 'Our journey gave us great satisfac- 
tion. I shall ever remember with pleasure a coun- 
try of which Delolme taught me to love the consti- 
tution, and where I have witnessed the good effects 
produced by that constitution. Fools may chatter, 
and slaves may sing ; but take my word for it, Eng- 
land contains men who have a right to laugh at us. 

I have to inform you for your satisfaction 
that Eudora knew us on our return, though we 
appeared to her as if in a dream. She kissed me 
with a kind of gravity mixed with affection, and 
then uttered a faint cry of surprise and joy at the 
sight of her father. She had been in great health 
during our absence ; but next morning, while run- 
ning about, she rolled down stairs in such a way 
that I thought her dead, and was little better than 
dead myself.' 

* In France it is very unusual for mothers to nurse their 
own children, except among the poorest classes — One very 
good reason why there is no such word as hom^ in the 
French language ! 



MADAME ROLAND. 1S9 

After their return from England, Madame Ro- 
land went to Paris, to solicit letters patent of no- 
bility for her husband, who could not spare time 
from his accumulated literary labors to perform the 
journey himself 

It has been already said that Roland belonged to 
a family, whose nobility disappeared with their 
opulence. Having obtained an easy fortune, he 
was desirous of being reinstated in the rank of his 
ancestors. This application was afterward violent- 
ly blamed and ridiculed by his Jacobin enemies. 
Madame Roland requested certificates from the 
superintendents of trade in Paris ; but they, being 
jealous of Roland's long experience in a branch of 
administration which he understood much better 
than themselves, and differing from him in some of 
his opinions, — did not comply with her wishes in 
a manner entirely satisfactory. On this account 
the subject was set aside for a time, and was not 
afterward renew^ed. Knowing her husband's wish 
to be near his family, she asked and obtained for 
him, during her stay in Paris, the office of Inspect- 
or General of Commerce and Manufactures at 
Lyons. This change of residence does not seem 
to have contributed to her happiness. They pass- 
ed the winters at Lyons, and spent the summers at 
Ville Tranche, M. Roland's paternal abode. His 
mother and elder brother resided on the same 
estate. Madame Roland says of the former, ' She 
is rendered respectable by her age, and terrMe by 
her bad temper. My husband is passionately fond 



190 MADAME ROLAND. 

of independence, and his elder brother is accustom- 
ed and inclined to domineer ; he is more despotic, 
more fanatic, and more obstinate, than any priest 
you ever saw. The parish of Thezee, two leagues 
from Ville Franche, in which is situated the Clos^' 
de la Platiere is a country of an arid soil, but rich 
in vineyards and woods. It is the last region in 
which the vine is cultivated, as you advance toward 
the lofty mountains of Beaujolois. We used fre- 
quently to go to this place in the autumn ; and 
after my mother-in-law's death, we spent there the 
greater part of the year. Here my simple taste 
was exercised in all the details of rural economy. 
I became the village doctor ; and was the more 
revered, because I bestowed assistance instead of 
requiring a revi^ard, and because the pleasure of 
doing good gave grace to my attentions. Honest 
countrywomen have come several leagues to beg 
me to save a life given over by the physicians. In 
1789, my soothing cares saved my husband from a 
dreadful disease, when all the prescriptions of the 
doctors failed. I passed twelve days and nights 
without sleep, and six months in the uneasiness of 
precarious convalescence ; and yet Iwas not ill : so 
much does our strength and activity depend upon 
the heart.' 

The following letter from Ville Franche shows 
the nature of Madame Roland's occupations at this 
period of her life : 

* A tract of vineyard inclosed. 



MADAME ROLAND. 191 

' You ask me how I pass my time 1 On rising, I 
busy myself with attending upon my child, and my 
husband. I get breakfast for both, hear the little 
one read, and then leave them together in the study, 
while I go and inquire into the household affairs 
from the cellar to the garret. The fruit, the wine, 
the linen, and other details contribute to my daily 
stock of cares. We are obliged to be in dress at 
noon, as there is a chance of company, which the 
old lady is very fond of inviting. If I have any time 
left, I pass it in the study with my husband, in the 
literary labors I have always been accustomed to 
share with him. After dinner, we stay a little 
while together, and I remain pretty constantly with 
my mother-in-law till company comes ; in such 
cases I am at liberty, and go to the study to write. 
In the evening, the newspaper, or something 
better, is read aloud. Gentlemen sometimes join 
us in the study. If I am not the reader, I sit 
modestly at my needlework, taking care to keep 
the child quiet. She neyer leaves us, except when 
we have a formal repast for visiters. As I do not 
v/ish her to be troublesome, or to take up the atten- 
tion of the company, on such occasions she remains 
in her own room, or takes a walk with her maid ; 
and does not make her appearance till the dessert is 
finished. Sometimes, but not often, I take a walk 
with my good man and Eudora. Bating these tri- 
fling differences, every day sees me turn in the same 
circle. English, Italian, and music, in which I so 
much delight, are talents hidden under the ashes ; 



192 MADAME ROLAND. 

but I shall know where to find them in order to 
instil them into my daughter's mind, as she grows 
older. The interest of my child, order in the things 
entrusted to my care, and peace among those with 
whom I am connected, constitute my business and 
my pleasure. This kind of life would be very 
austere, were not my husband a man of great merit, 
whom I love with my whole heart ; but with this 
datum, it is most delightful. Tender friendship 
and unbounded confidence mark every moment of 
existence, and stamp a value upon all things which 
nothing without them would have. It is the life 
most favorable to virtue and to happiness. I ap- 
preciate its worth, I congratulate myself on enjoy- 
ing it, and I exert my best endeavors to make it 
last. 

* Eudora, our little delight, grows, and'entertains 
us with her prattle. At this moment, she is put- 
ting out her little mouth, and trying to kiss me, 
after having received from papa a tap upon her 
fingers, which were overturning everything on the 
table. Although brought up alone, she is a perfect 
romp. Her violent animal spirits will need a strong 
mind to govern them. She has all the intelligence 
that can be expected at her age and can put up 
with anything, even dry bread, when doing penance. 
She begins to read well, and to leave other play- 
things for her needle ; amuses herself with making 
geometrical figures ; is entirely unfettered by dress ; 
sets no value upon scraps of gauze and ends of 
riband ; thinks herself fine when she has a clean 



MADAME ROLAND'. 193 

white frock, and is told she is good ; and looks 
upon a cake given with a kiss, as the greatest of all 
rewards. I was just now greatly scandalized by 
hearing her utter a big oath. She gives our servant 
Claude as authority. What admirable aptitude ! 
She does not pass an hour in a fortnight with the 
servants ; and I never stir a step without her. She 
has a strong inclination to say and do the very 
contrary of what she is desired, because she thinks 
it agreeable to act for herself; but as she is sure to 
be repaid with interest, she begins to suspect that 
she might do better ; she gives herself as much 
credit for an act of obedience, as we should do for 
a sublime effort of the mind. I am her confidant 
upon all occasions ; and she is very much at loss 
what to do when we quarrel.' 

Madame Roland's letters do not always breathe 
the same spirit of contentment. In a letter from 
Clos de la Platiere, she says, ' I detest this place. 
We have killed a viper near the house, and Eudora 
may meet with that terrible reptile in some unfre- 
quented walk. My heart fails me at the thought. 
More things than one put us out of humor with this 
country-house. We have laid aside the idea of re- 
building it. If you hear of a snug box to be sold 
on the road to Lyons, pray let us know.' 

A few months after, she again writes, from the 

same place : ' I am still here, and shall probably 

remain some time. Economy guided us in our 

first resolution to live at Ville Franche ; but regard 

13 



194 MADAME ROLAND. 

for our moral and physical welfare made us change 
our minds. True my mother-in-law lives at as 
great an expense during our absence ; and stran- 
gers occupy our places at her table. What then ? 
Here we have liberty and peace. We no longer 
hear a scolding tongue from morning till night, or 
behold a forbidding countenance, in which jeal- 
ousy and anger are manifest through the disguise 
of irony, whenever we meet with any success, or 
receive any attention. With all my regard for you, 
I should not speak thus of my husband's mother, if 
he had not done so already. To confess the truth, 
these trials are more supportable than they were 
during the first two or three months. As long as 
I had hopes of finding a heart among the whim- 
sicalities of the most extraordinary disposition, I 
tormented myself in endeavoring to gain it, and 
was distressed because I could not. Now I see 
in a proper point of view a selfish, fantastical be^ 
ing, governed entirely by a spirit of contradiction, 
who never enjoyed anything but the power of tor- 
menting by her caprices, who triumphs in the death 
of two children, after she had steeped their souls 
in bitterness, who would smile at the death of .all 
of us, and who scarcely takes any pains to con- 
ceal her sentiments, I feel my distress converted 
into indifference, almost into pity ; and my fits of 
indignation and hatred become brief and unfre- 
quent. Here we can breathe a pure air, and indulge 
in confidence and tenderness, without any fear that 
the manifestation of such sentiments will irritate a 



MADAME ROLAND. 195 

hard heart utterly a stranger to them. We cannot 
possess great blessings, without purchasing them 
at the expense of a few troubles. With such a 
husband as mine, and one so dear to me, this world 
would be a perfect paradise, if I had nothing else 
but sources of satisfaction." 

At another time, she says, ' I verily believe I am 
imbibing some of the inclinations of the beast 
whose milk is restoring me to health. I am growing 
asinine^ by dint of attending to the little cares of a 
piggish country life. I am preserving pears, which 
, will be delicious ; we are drying raisins and prunes ; 
are in the midst of a great wash, and getting up 
the linen ; make our breakfast upon wine ; over- 
look the people busied in the vintage ; rest our- 
selves in the woods and meadows ; knock down 
walnuts ; and after gathering our stock of fruit for 
the winter, spread it in the garret; after breakfast 
we are all going in a body to gather almonds. 
Throw off your fetters for a little while, and join 
as in our retreat ; you will find there true friendship, 
and real simplicity of heart.' 

Some time after, she says, ' As long as I remain- 
ed nailed to my desk in the study, you heard from 
me often and could judge of my way of life, per- 
haps of ray heart, by my correspondence ; but the 
people of our town looked upon me as a hermit, 
who could only converse wnth the dead, and who 
disdained all commerce with her fellow-creatures. 
I laid down my pen ; suspended my literary labors ; 
walked forth from ray museum ; talked, ate, danced 



196 MADAME ROLAND. 

and laughed with all that came in my way ; and 
then my neighbors perceived that I was not an owl 
— nor a constellation — nor a female pedant — but 
a being both tolerable and tolerant ; while you, on 
the other hand, thought me dead. I am now about 
to resume solitude and study, and expect to hear 
you alter your note once more.' 

Having made a sceptical remark in one of her 
letters, she returns to the subject in her next, and 
says, ' I must confess to you that when I am walk- 
ing in peaceful meditation, in the midst of some 
rural scene, of which I relish the beauties, it seems 
delightful to me to owe the blessings I enjoy to a 
Supreme Intelligence : at such times, I believe 
and adore. It is only in the dust of the closet, 
while poring over books, or in the bustle of the 
^ world, while breathing the corruption of mankind, 
that these sentiments die away, and a gloomy sort 
of reason rises enveloped with the clouds of doubt^ 
and the destructive vapors of incredulity.' 

The following letter is merely quoted as a sample 
of the sprightliness of her style ; I know not to 
whom it is addressed, nor to what it is a reply. 

' Oh ! a great deal worse than giddy — why, 
you are inconsiderate, impertinent — I know not 
what. How can you expect me ever to pardon you 
for having made me lose my time in copying the 
most tiresome things in the world '? Copy ! / copy ! 
It is a degradation — a profanation — a sin against 
all the laws of taste. After this, it becomes you 



MADAME ROL'ANI). 197 

well to go snuffing the wind, and strutting along — 
You, an interloper in the capital, whence I car- 
ried a great part of what was good for anything ! 
Do you not know that I have both pens and jour- 
nals upon my toilet, — moreover verses to Iris, — 
that I can talk of my country-house, of my domes- 
tics, and of the stupidity of the town at this season 
of the year 1 That I can pronounce sentence upon 
new books, fall in love with a work upon the re- 
port of the editor of the Parisian Journal, pay 
visits, talk nonsense, listen to the same, — and so 
on 1 Is not that the utmost effort of the wit and 
art of the elegant woman in the great world 1 Go 
your ways, young gentleman ! As yet, you are 
not clever enough for a persijlage, nor impudent 
enough for fashionable airs and graces. You have 
not even levity enough to encourage an experienced 
woman to undertake your education, without a 
risk of exposing herself Go your ways, young 
man — pick up insects, dispute with the learned 
about snails' horns, or the color of a beetle's wings ; 
but as for the ladies, you are good for nothing but 
to give them the vapors. Do you know that Massa- 
chusetts is a very barbarous name ? And that a 
man of fashion was never known to utter such a 
word when saying soft things to the fair sex? I 
heard of a lady who was so shocked at the sound 
of Transylvania, which was quite new to her, that 
she desired the impertinent speaker to leave the 
room.' 

From Lyons she writes, ^ My good man pro- 



198 MADAME ROLAND. 

nounced a discourse before the Academy, that was 
much applauded. The subject was The Influence 
of the Cultivation of Letters in the Provinces, com- 
pared with their Influence in the Capital. There 
was a good deal in it concerning women, which 
several present had reason to apply to themselves ; 
they would tear my eyes out, perhaps, if they sus- 
pected I had any share in the composition. The 
secretary of the academy recited a poetic epistle, 
in which he congratulated our friend upon his re- 
turn to his country, accompanied by a help-mate^ 
of whom he spoke as — poets are apt to do. It is 
pretty certain this did not tend to recommend me 
to the favor of the women. They would fain have 
it in their power to criticise the discourse of an 
academician, whose wife was the subject of a pub- 
lic panegyric. When you know me to be in the 
country, you may show yourself as you are ; an 
original, or a censor ; if needs must be, you may be 
morose. In the country my stock of indulgence is 
inexhaustible ; my friendship forgives everything. 
But the company I see at Lyons puts me in good 
humor ; my imagination grows more lively ; and 
if you rouse it, you must take the consequences. 
I let no joke escape without sending it back with a 
sharpened point.' 

Of her father, she thus speaks : ' He neither 
married, nor made any very ruinous engagements. 
We paid a few debts he had contracted, and by 
granting him an annuity prevailed on him to leave 
business, in which it had become impossible for 



MADAME ROLAND. 199 

him to succeed. Though suffering so much from 
his errors, and though he had reason to be highly 
satisfied with our behaviour, his spirit was too proud 
net to be hurt at the obligations he owed us. A 
state of irritated self-love often prevented him from 
doing justice, even to those who were most desirous 
of pleasing him. He died, aged upwards of sixty, 
in the hard winter of 1787.' 

In the course of the same year, Madame Roland 
accompanied her husband in a tour through Swit- 
zerland, where she became acquainted with several 
interesting persons 5 among them was the famous 
Lavater, with whom she afterward corresponded 
In passing through Geneva, she was filled with 
indignation at not finding a statue erected to the 
memory of Rousseau. After their return from 
Switzerland, they resided alternately at Lyons and 
at Clos de la Platiere. They were enjoying their 
accustomed mode of life in these places, when the 
flame of the Revolution first broke out. Roland 
and his wife at once kindled with popular enthusi- 
asm. Their imaginations had long been enamored 
of the ancient republics ; and they now fancied 
that the time had arrived for the political regene- 
ration of mankind. 

Extracts from her letters will best show her state 
of feeling at this time : 

' Clos de la Platiere, 1790. 
' In this place, I could easily forget public affairs ; 
contented with feeding my rabbits, and seeing my 



200 MADAME ROLAND. 

hens hatch their young, I no longer think of revolu- 
tions. But as soon as I am in town, the insolence 
^ of the rich, and the misery of the people, excite 
my hatred against injustice and oppression ; and I 
no longer ask for anything but the triumph of truth 
and the success of the Revolution. Our peasantry 
are very much discontented vi^ith the decree con- 
cerning feudal rights. We must have a reform, 
or we shall have more chateaux burnt. Prepara- 
tions are making at Lyons for a camp. Send us 
brave fellows to make aristocracy tremble in its 
den.' 

^ ^ T? T? w TT W 

* Lyons is subjugated. The Germans and Swiss 
domineer by means of their bayonets, employed in 
the service of a treacherous municipality in league 
with bad ministers, and bad citizens. If we do not 
die for liberty, we shall soon have nothing left to do 
but weep for her. Do you say we ^dare no longer 
speak 1 Be it so. We must thunder then. Join 
yourself to such honest people as you can find, and 
wake the people from their lethargy !' * * 

' Death and destruction ! What signifies your 
being Parisians ? You cannot see to the end of 
your own noses — or else you want vigor to make 
your assembly get on. It was not our representa- 
tives who brought about the revolution ; with the 
exception of a dozen or so, they are altogether 
beneath such a work: it was the ^eop/e, who are 
always in the right, when public opinion is proper- 
ly directed. Paris is the seat of that opinion. 



MADAME ROLAND. 201 

Finish your work, then, or expect to see it watered 
with your blood. You are nothing but children. 
Your enthusiasm is a momentary blaze. If the 
national assembly do not bring two illustrious heads 
to a formal trial, or if some generous Decius do not 
strike them off, we shall all go to the — —together. 
The French are so easily seduced by fair appear- 
ances on the part of their masters ! No doubt one 
half of the assembly was moved at the sight of 
Antoinette recommending her son. A child is of 
great consequence, to be sure ! The salvation of 
twenty millions of men is at stake. If this letter 
do not reach you, let the base wretches, who open 
it, blush when they learn that it is from a woman; 
and let them tremble to reflect that she is able to 
make a hundred enthusiasts, who will make a mil- 
lion more.' 

^ ^ 4^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 

1791, 

' I weep for the blood that has been spilt ; it is im- 
possible to be too sparing of the lives of our fellow 
creatures. Nevertheless, I am glad there is danger. 
I see nothing else capable of goading you on. It is 
impossible to rise to freedom, from the midst of cor- 
ruption, without strong convulsions. They are the 
salutary crisis of a serious disease. We are in 
want of a terrible political fever, to carry off our 
foul humors.' 

These and other letters, equally energetic, were 
rapidly circulated by her husband's political friends ; 



■/^ 



202 , MADAME ROLAND. 

and many of them found their way into the public 
journals, particularly the Patriote Frangois. Ro- 
land and his wife likewise wrote many articles, in 
favor of a new order of things, in the Courrier de 
Lyon. Madame Roland gave a description of the 
confederation at Lyons, May 30, 1790, in language 
so powerful and impressive, that more than sixty 
thousand copies of it were sold. In 1791, Roland 
was chosen, by the city of Lyons, deputy extraor- 
dinary to the Constituent Assembly ; the manufac- 
turers of that place were then in a wretched state, 
and twenty thousand workmen were starving. 
Madame Roland accompanied her husband to Paris, 
where they arrived on the 20th of February; they 
remained there seven months, in habits of close 
companionship with Brissot, Buzot, Robespierre, 
&c. Madame Roland says, ' I had been five years 
absent from the place of my nativity. I had watch- 
ed the progress of the revolution, and the labors 
of the assembly ; I had studied the characters and 
talents of its leading members, with an interest 
not to be easily conceived by those, who are unac- 
quainted with my ardent and active turn of mind. 
I hastened to attend their sittings. I was vexe 
to see that dignified habits, purity of language, and 
polished manners, gave the court-party a kind of su- 
periority in large assemblies ; but the strength of 
reason, the courage of integrity, the fruits of study, 
and the fluency of the bar could not fail to secure 
the triumph of the patriots, if they were all honest, 
and could but remain united.' At this period Mad- 



MADAME ROLAND . 203 

ame Roland thought Robespierre an honest man, 
and a true friend of liberty ; though she says the 
kind of reserve, for which he was remarkable, even 
then gave her pain, — because it seemed like a 
fear of being seen through, or a distrust of the vir- 
tue of others. Of Danton, she says, ' No man 
could make a greater show of zeal in the cause of 
liberty ; but I contemplated his forbidding and atro- - 
cious features, and though I tried to overcome my 
prejudice, I could never associate anything good 
with such a countenance. Never did a face so 
strongly express brutal passions, and the most 
astonishing audacity, half-distinguished by a jovial 
air, and an affectation of simplicity.' 

As M. Roland's residence in Paris was a con- 
venient place of rendezvous, different members of 
the Assembly often met there. She says, ' This 
arrangement suited me perfectly. It made me ac- 
quainted with the progress of public affairs, in 
which I was deeply interested, and favored my taste 
for political speculation, and the study of mankind. 
However, I knew very well what part became a 
woman, and never stepped out of my proper sphere. 
I employed myself in working, or writing letters, 
without sharing in the debate. Yet if I despatched 
ten epistles in an evening, I did not lose a syllable 
of what they were saying ; and more than once I 
bit my lips, to restrain my impatience to speak. 
It distressed me that men of sense should pass three 
or four hours in light and frivolous chit-chat, with- 
out coming to any conclusion. Good ideas were 



^ 



•■y 



204 - MADAME ROLAND. 

started, and excellent principles maintained ; but 
on the whole, there was no path marked out, no fix- 
ed result, no determinate point, toward which each 
person should direct his views. Sometimes, for 
very vexation, I could have boxed the ears of these 
philosophers, whose honesty I daily learned to 
esteem more and more. Excellent reasoners, learn- 
ed theorists, were they all ; but being totally igno- 
rant of the art of managing mankind, their wit and 
learning were generally lavished to no end.' 

In September, 1791, Roland returned to Lyons, 
after having obtained all for that city that could 
be desired. The autumn was employed in the 
vintage ; and as one of the last acts of the Con- 
stituent Assembly had been the suppression of the 
office of Inspectors, it was determined that they 
should spend the winter in Paris ; where Roland 
intended to claim a pension for forty years' service, 
and where he could have greater facilities for con- 
tinuing his labors in the Encyclopedia. Before he 
left Lyons he established there a club similar to 
the Jacobin club at Paris. After the dissolution of 
the Constituent Assembly, a new body was im- 
mediately organized called the Legislative Assem- 
bly. * The party which obtained the ascendency 
in this Assembly was called the Gir-onde party, 
because some of its principal leaders came from 
the neighborhood of Bordeaux, which is watered 
by a river of that name.' Among the leaders 
were Roland and his wife, Condor cet, Brissot, ^c. 
The court, alarmed at the increasing strength of 



MADAME ROLAND. 205 

the popular factions, thought to pacify the people 
by appointing Jacobin ministers. The aristocratic 
party would not have been sorry to have seen the 
dignity conferred upon men who were base enough 
to become their tools, or weak enough to be objects 
of derision. The patriots, anxious to avoid this 
snare, were very solicitous to choose persons of 
strong abilities and undoubted integrity. Under 
such circumstances their attention was fixed upon 
M. Roland. His own courage did not shrink from 
the arduous task, and his wife's ambition was grat- 
ified by a proposal that conferred so much distinc- 
tion. In March, 1792, he became Minister of the 
Interior. The Hotel formerly occupied by the 
Comptroller General of the Finance, was appro- 
priated to his use ; and Madame Roland presided 
over the establishment, that had been so splendidly 
fitted up for Madame Necker, in the days of her 
glory. When Roland first presented himself at 
Court, he dispensed with the usual costume, and 
appeared in the dress of the Jacobin club — a plain 
suit of clothes, round hat, and shoes fastened with 
ribbon instead of buckles. The king, and those 
courtiers who thought the salvation of the country 
depended upon etiquette, were greatly scandalized 
at this austere republicanism. The master of the 
ceremonies, stepping up to Dumouriez, and casting 
a look of alarm upon the new minister, exclaimed, 
* Oh, dear sir ! He has no buckles in his shoes !' 
Dumouriez, who enjoyed a joke, replied, with 
laughable gravity, ' Mercy upon us ! We shall all 
go to ruin !' 



206 MADAME ROLAND. 

Louis XVI. was however very affable and con- 
ciliating in his manner toward the new members of 
the council. At first Roland was enchanted with 
his excellent disposition, and thought the monarch 
would grant everything that could be required for 
the good of the people. ' On my faith/ said he, ' if 
he be not an honest man, he is the greatest knave 
in the kingdom. Tt is impossible to be so hypo- 
critical.' To these expressions of confidence, 
Madame Roland replied, ' I cannot bring myself 
to believe in the constitutional vocation of a king, 
born and educated in despotism, and accustomed 
to arbitrary sway. If Louis is sincerely the friend 
of a constitution, which restrains his power, he 
must be virtuous beyond the common race of mor- 
tals ; and if he were such a man, the events that 
have led to the revolution could never have oc- 
curred.' The troubles on the score of religion in- 
creased daily ; and the preparations of the enemy, 
called for decisive measures. Roland urged upon 
the kiilg the necessity of a decree against the priest- 
hood, and the establishment of a camp in the sub- 
urbs of Paris. Louis did not positively refuse, but 
upon the plea of further consideration, he deferred 
them from day to day, until his sincerity was great- 
ly suspected. Roland remonstrated in the strong- 
est and most spirited manner. Thinking the pub- 
lic welfare was in danger, and that patriot ministers 
were bound to provide means for its salvation, he 
at last proposed to his colleagues that a letter should 
be written to the king, full of republican truths, ex- 



MADAME ROLAND. 207 

pressed warmly and without disguise. The mem- 
bers of the council were afraid to hazard so bold a 
measure ; and Roland thought it incumbent upon 
his integrity and courage to step forward alone. 
This famous letter to Louis XVI. was written by v^ 
Madame Roland. It was placed in the king's hands 
on the 11th of June ; and the next day, the Min- 
ister of the Interior and his colleagues 'were dis- 
missed from office. Madame Roland, with her 
usual daring, advised that a copy of the offensive 
letter should be immediately sent to the National 
Assembly, that the cause of Roland's dismission 
might be known. This letter obtained prodigious 
popularity. The Assembly ordered it to be print- 
ed and sent to all the departments, accompanied 
with expressions of national regret at the discharge 
of the ministry. Roland became the idol of the 
patriotic party. After the dreadful catastrophe of 
the 10th of August, 1792, he was again called to 
the ministry by the triumphant faction. 

Of her way of life at this period, Madame Ro- 
land thus speaks : ' As soon as my husband was in 
the ministry, I came to a fixed determination neither 
to pay nor receive visits, nor invite any female to 
my table. I had no great sacrifice to make ; for, 
not residing at Paris, my acquaintance was not ex- 
tensive. Besides, I had never kept a great deal of 
company ; my love of study is as great as my detes- 
tation of cards, and the society of silly people 
affords me no amusement. Accustomed to domes- \ 
tic retirement, I shared the labors of Roland, and 



208 MADAME ROLAND. 

pursued the studies most suited to my own partic- 
ular taste. 

The establishment of so severe a rule served to 
keep up my accustomed style of life, and to prevent 
the inconveniences, which an interested crowd is 
sure to throw in the way of people occupying im- 
portant posts. Twice a week I gave a dinner to 
some of the ministers, a few members of the Assem- 
bly, and other persons with whom my husband 
wished to converse. Business was talked of in my 
presence, because I had not the rage of interfering, 
and was never surrounded by new acquaintances, 
whose presence might excite distrust. From all 
the spacious apartments, I chose the smallest parlor 
for myself, and converted it into a study, by moving 
into it my library and desk. It frequently happen- 
ed, that Roland's friends, when they wanted to talk 
confidentially, instead of going to his apartment, 
where he was usually surrounded, would come to 
my room and ask me to send for him. By these 
means, I found myself drawn into the vortex of 
public affairs, without intrigue, or idle curiosity ; 
and as we had ever a perfect intercommunity of 
knowledge and opinions, Roland talked to me in 
private of political measures with entire confidence. 
During twelve years I shared in my husband's intel- 

^'"^ jectual labors as I did in his repasts ; because one 
was as natural to me as the other. If any of his 
works met with aflattering reception, on account of 
any particular gracefulness of style, I shared his 

V satisfaction without remarking that it was my own 



MADAME ROLAND. 209 

composition. Not unfrequently he brought himself 
to beUeve that he had been in a happier mood than 
usual when he had written a passage, which in 
reality proceeded from my pen. If an occasion 
occurred for the expression of great and striking 
truths, I poured my whole soul upon the paper. I 
loved my country. — I knew no interest, no passion, 
that came in competition with my enthusiasm for 
liberty. The language that comes directly from 
the heart is necessarily pure and pathetic ; and it 
was very natural that such effusions should be pre- 
ferable to the laborious teeming of a secretary's 
brain. Why should not a woman act as secretary 
to her husband, without depriving him of his merit ? 
It is well known that ministers cannot do every- 
thing themselves ; and surely it is better for the 
wives of statesmen to make draughts of letters, of 
official despatches, and of proclamations, than to 
employ their time in soliciting and intriguing first 
for oYiQ friend and then for another ; in the very 
nature of things one of these employments excludes 
the other. I make these remarks, because a great 
many people are willing to allow me a little merit, 
on purpose that they may deny it to my husband ; 
while many others suppose me to have had a kind 
of influence in public affairs entirely discordant 
with my turn of mind. Studious habits and a taste 
for literature led me to participate in Roland's la- 
bors vv'hile he remained a private individual ; my 
existence being devoted to his happiness, I applied 
myself to such things as best pleased him. If he 
14 



210 MADAME ROLAND. 

wrote treatises on the arts, I did the same, though 
the subject was tedious to me. If he wished to write 
an essay for some academy, we sat down to write 
in concert, that we might afterward compare our 
productions, choose the best, or compress them 
into one. If he had written homiUes, I should 
have written homihes also. I never interfered with 
his administration ; but if a circular letter, or an 
important state -paper, were wanted, we talked 
over the matter with our usual freedom ; and im- 
pressed with his ideas, and teeming with my own, 
I sometimes took up the pen, which I had more 
leisure to conduct than he had. Our principles 
and turn of mind being the same, my husband ran 

/no risk in passing through my hands. Without 
me, Roland would have been quite as good a min- 
ister ; for his knowledge, his activity, and his in- 
tegrity were all his own : but with me he attracted 
more attention ; because I infused into his writings 

^ that mixture of spirit and gentleness, of authorita- 
tive reason and seducing sentiment, which is per- 
haps only to be found in the language of a woman, 
who has a clear head and a feeling heart. If my 
compositions could be of use, it afforded me great- 
er pleasure than it would have done to have been 

I known as their author. I am avaricious of happi- 
ness, but I do not stand in need of glory ; nor can 
I find any part to perform in this world that suits 
me, but that of providence. I allow the malicious 
to look upon this remark as a piece of impertinence, 
which it must somewhat resemble ; those who know 



MADAME ROLAND. 211 

me will see nothing in it bat what is sincere, like 
myself. 

* I was generally so much occupied with the im- 
portance of the subject in which we were engaged, 
that my thoughts did not even revert to myself. 
Once, however, I recollect being diverted by a curi- 
ous coincidence of circumstances. I was writino- 
to the Pope, to claim the French artists imprisoned 
at Rome. — A letter to the sovereio;n Pontiff in 
the name of the Executive Council of France, 
sketched secretly by a woman, in her humble closet, 
appeared to me so strange a thing, that I laughed 
heartily when I had finished it. The pleasure of 
such contrasts consisted in their secrecy ; and that 
was necessarily less attainable when the eye of a 
clerk surveyed the hand-writing he copied. If those 
who found me out, had formed a right judgment of 
things, they would have saved me from a sort of 
celebrity to which I never aspired ; and instead of 
spending my time to refute their falsehoods, I might 
now be reading Montaigne, painting a flower, or 
playing an ariette. Household cares I never neg- ^ 
lected ; but I cannot comprehend how a woman of 
method and activity can have her attention engross- < 
ed by them. If the family be large, there are the 
greater number of persons to divide the cares ; noth- 
ino[ is wanted but a moderate share of vimlance, and 
a proper distribution of employments. In the 
different situations in which I have been placed, 
nothing has been done without my orders ; yet 
when I have had the most to superintend, I have 



212 MADAME ROLAND. 

never consumed more than two hours of the day. 
People who know how to employ themselves, always 
find leisure moments, while those who do nothing 
are forever in a hurry. I have seen notable wo- 
men who were insupportable to the world, and to 
their husbands, by a fatiguing pre-occupation about 
their trifling concerns. I think a wife should su- 
perintend everything herself, without saying a word 
about it ; and with such command of temper, and 
management of time, as will leave her the means of 
pleasing by her good-humor, intelligence, and the 
grace natural to her sex. It is much the same in 
governments as in families ; those statesmen, as well 
as housewives, who make a great bustle about the 
difficulties they are in, are the very ones, who are 
too indolent, too awkward, or too ignorant to re- 
move them.' 

A life so full of changes as that of Madame Ro- 
land, of Course afforded striking contrasts. She 
tells us that one day as she was stepping out of the 
spacious dining-room which the elegant Calonne 
had fitted up-^r Madame Nedss^. she met a gray- 
headed gentleman, who bowed very low, and beg- 
ged her to obtain for him an interview with the 
Minister of the Interior. She afterward found that 
this gentleman was M. Haudry, whose relations 
had invited her to dine with their servants ; he had 
squandered his fortune in dissipation, and came to 
ask M. Roland to procure him a place in a man- 
ufactory. 

But situations the most elevated are often far 



MADAME ROLA ND. 213 

from being the most enviable. Base and selfish 
men joined the popular party, ready to serve it for 
money, or to betray it the moment it became weak. 
Such men could not but clash with Roland, who 
was conscientious in his motives, and unyielding in 
his opinions. To this was added the immense ac- 
cumulation of labor devolving upon a public officer, 
in those distracted times, and the difficulty of find- 
ing men of probity and skill to assist him. Mad- 
ame Roland says, ' It seems as if France were des- 
titute of men ; their scarcity has been truly surpris- 
ing in this revolution, in which scarcely anything 
but pigmies have appeared. I do not mean, how- 
ever, that there was any w^ant of wit, of learning, 
of accomplishments, or of philosophy. These in- 
gredients ^vere never so common — it is the bright 
blaze of an expiring taper. But as to that firmness 
of mind, which Rousseau calls the first attribute of 
a hero, supported by that soundness of judgment, 
which knows how to set a true value upon things, 
and by those extensive views, which penetrate into 
futurity, altogether constituting the character of a 
great man, they were sought for everywhere, and 
were scarcely to be found. Before I became ac- 
quainted with public affairs I was as distrustful of 
myself as a novice in her cloister. I thought that 
men, who spoke with more decision than myself, 
were more able. It required the bustle of a rev- 
olution, and an opportunity to make comparisons 
among a crowd of distinguished men, to enable me 
to perceive that the bench on which I was standing 



214 MADAME ROLAND. 

was not likely to break down with the throng. 
The conviction tended rather to lower my estimate 
of the species, than to elevate the opinion of myself.' 
The admission of Danton into the councils 
of government was, as Madame Roland had fore- 
seen, a source of perpetual vexation and distress 
to the true patriots. He had been admitted from 
^ the bad political maxim, that an unprincipled man 
may be used as a tool, to bring about good purposes 
from wrong motives. Those who disliked his pro- 
ceedings, deemed it expedient to tolerate him, 
because he might prove a dangerous enemy. Self- 
ish and insidious, he availed himself of his posi- 
tion, and placed his vile creatures in almost every 
department. As his power increased, he showed 
more openly his dislike of Roland, who was too 
honest to be tampered with, and too fearless to be 
intimidated. They found Madame Roland had no 
weak side, through which her husband could be 
assailed, and they alike dreaded her frankness, her 
penetration, and her talents. It is hardly possible 
to suppose a situation more painful than that of an 
upright man in power compelled to witness abuses 
he cannot prevent, and to have the appearance of 
sanctioning the crimes his soul abhors, Roland's 
health was impaired by it. He was unable to eat 
or sleep. Yet he deemed it his duty not to desert 
his post so long as there was a chance of checking 
the tide of anarchy. The massacres of the 2d of 
September filled him with horror. He wrote a let- 
ter to_the Assembly, as famous as his address to the 



MADAME ROLAND. 215 

king ; it proved that he alike detested the tyranny u 
of a monarch and the tyranny of a mob. 

The department of the Somme, in which Roland 
had long resided, elected him a member of the 
Convention ; in consequence of which, he thought 
proper to offer to the Assembly a resignation of his 
office in the ministry. This proposal produced a 
good deal of agitation. Many of the members 
were alarmed at the idea of taking from the helm 
a man of understanding and tried integrity. A 
motion was made, that he should be urged to re- 
main in office : upon which Danton observed, ' If 
we invite him, we must extend the invitation to 
Madame. I am well aware of the virtues of the 
minister ; but we have need of men, who can see 
without the help of their wives.' 

The resignation was not accepted ; and a crowd 
of members repaired to his house, beseeching him 
not to quit the ministry, — urging it upon him as a 
sacrifice he owed to his country. News was 
brought that his election as member of the Conven- 
tion was void, because it had been made in lieu of 
another, erroneously supposed to be null ; this cir- 
cumstance was known to Danton's party, but they 
endeavored to keep it concealed, until they could 
get Roland out of the ministry. Under these cir- 
cumstances, the Minister of the Interior resolved 
to remain at his dangerous post. The difficulties 
and perils of his situation increased daily. The 
Mountain Party, headed by Robespierre, Danton, 
and Marat, gained its awful ascendency. The in- 



216 MADAME ROLAND. 

fluence of moderate and enlightened patriots was 
v"' an insufficient barrier against the ferocity of a law- 
less banditti. Roland and his party tried to stop 
the frightful increase of crime, and consequently 
were immediately branded by the fierce Moun- 
taineers, as conspirators against the liberties of 
France : they ridiculed the chimera of a Univer- 
sal Commonwealth, and a Convention composed of 
deputies from all parts of the world, and therefore 
they were denounced as vile corrupters of public 
opinion : they dared to say that Greece was com- 
posed of small confederate republics, and that the 
United States exhibited the best model of a good 
social organization — and they were immediately 
represented as federalists, men ambitious of su- 
preme power, the secret friends of England, &c, &c. 
The social dinners, which Madame Roland could 
not well avoid giving to public men, were repre- 
sented as sumptuous feasts, where she, like a new 
Circe, corrupted all who were unfortunate enough 
to partake of her banquet. On the 7th of Decem- 
ber she was called before the Convention to answer 
to certain accusations ; and the sincerity and elo- 
quence of her replies compelled her worst enemies 
to listen and admire. But in such times, innocence 
and talent could not produce any abiding effect. 
When artful politicians courted the scum of the 
populace, by cutting throats, drinking, swearing, 
and dressing like sailors, it was deemed sufficient 
villany to profess morality, and retain politeness. 
The friends of Roland, having ascertained that 



MADAME ROLAND. 217 

desperate men were constantly lurking about his 
house, urged him to remove his famil}'. At one 
time, Madame Roland was convinced that it would 
be better for her to retire to Ville Franche, and leave 
her husband to effect his escape, (should such a 
step become necessary,) unencumbered by his wife 
and child ; but her prevailing feeling was to remain 
with him and share the worst fate that might befal 
him. Her friends told her she must leave Paris in 
disguise ; and the dress of a peasant girl was 
brought for that purpose. The sight of it aroused 
all her fortitude — she indignantly threw it aside, 
exclaiming, ' I am ashamed of the part you would 
persuade me to act. I will neither disguise myself, 
nor go out of the way. If I am to be murdered, it 
shall be in my own mansion. I owe my country 
an example of firmness, and I will give it. I can- 
not suppose there are wretches, who could be easily 
induced to violate the asylum of a man in public 
office ; and if there be men so depraved, the per- 
petration of such an act would be productive of 
beneficial consequences.' 

Madame Roland was, however, so well aware of 
her danger, that she never slept without a pistol 
under her pillow ; not to kill those who might come 
to assassinate them, but to defend herself from 
outrages, of which the Revolution afforded too 
many examples. 

The deadly hostility between the Girondins and 
the Mountaineers increased daily. The former are 
accused of wishing to establish an aristocracy of 



218 MADAME ROLAND. 

^'talent on the ruins of the aristocracy of rank; the 
latter were for levelling all distinctions, even to 
breaking dovi?n the boundaries betvi^een vice and 
virtue. The Girondins, conscious of upright mo- 
tives, were no doubt too stern and unconciliating 
toward their opponents, and too irascible in debate : 
but the" Mountaineers were a violent, reckless set 

-.y of demagogues, whose most proper appellation 
would have been the Hurra-Party. Having no re- 
gard for the courtesies of life, the principles of truth, 
or the decencies of language, they attacked their 
enemies in the most profligate and shameless man- 
ner. Placards were posted in the streets, in w^hich 
Roland was not only accused of corruption, but the 
dagger was still more effectually struck at his heart 
by open charges against his virtuous wife. At last, 
finding it impossible to allay the tempest, and weary 
of being the member of a council without energy, 
and of a government without power, Roland gave 
in his accounts to the Convention, and asked his dis- 
mission. His request was granted. Marat pro- 
posed that he should not be allowed to quit Paris. 
The ex-Minister of the Interior, relying on the ex- 
actness of his accounts, demanded a report on his 
administration ; but his enemies knew his integrity 
too well, to allow him such an advantage. His 
ruin was resolved upon, and his friends were too 
weak to prevent it. 

At the time of the insurrection of the 3 1st of 
May, an attempt was made to arrest him. Madame 
Roland thus describes the scene : 



MADAME ROLAND. 219 

' It was half after five in the evening, when six 
men armed came to our house. One of them read 
to Roland an order of the revolutionary committee, 
by the authority of which they came to apprehend 
him. " I know no law/' said Roland, " which 
constitutes the authority you cite to me, and I shall 
obey no orders proceeding from it. If you employ 
violence, I can only oppose to you the resistance of 
a man of my years ; but I shall protest against it 
to the last moment." — "I have no order to employ 
violence," replied the person, " and I will leave my 
colleagues here, while I go and report your answer 
to the council of the commune." 

' Immediately it occurred to me, that it would be 
well to announce this circumstance to the Conven- 
tion with some noise, in order to prevent the arrest 
of Roland, or to obtain his prompt release, if this 
should be carried into execution. To communicate 
the thought to my husband, write a letter to the 
president, and set out, was the business of a few 
minutes. My servant was absent : I left a friend, 
who was in the house, with Roland ; and stepped 
alone into a hackney-coach, which I ordered to pro- 
ceed as fast as possible to the Carrousel. The court 
of the Tuileries was filled with armed men. I 
crossed , and flew through the midst of them like a 
bird. I- was dressed in a morning gown, and had 
put on a black shawl, and a veil. On my arrival 
at the doors of the outer halls, which were all shut, 
I found sentinels, who allowed no one to enter, or 
sent me by turns from one door to another. In 



220 MADAME ROLAND. 

vain I insisted on admission : at length I bethought 
myself of employing such language, as might have 
been uttered by some devotee of Robespierre : 
*' But, citizens, in this day of salvation for our coun- 
try, in the midst of those traitors we have to fear, 
you know not of what importance some notes I have 
to transmit to the president may be. Let me at 
least see one of the messengers, that I may entrust 
them to him." 

' The door opened, and I entered into the peti- 
tioners' hall. I inquired for a messenger of the 
house. " Wait tiirone comes out :" said one of the 
inner sentinels. A quarter of an hour passed away : 
I perceived Roze, the person who brought me the 
decree of the convention, which invited me to repair 
to the bar, on occasion of the ridiculous accusation 
of Viard, whom I overwhelmed with confusion : 
now I solicited permission to appear there, and an- 
nounced Roland to be in danger, with which the 
public weal was connected. But circumstances 
were no longer the same, though my rights were 
equal ; before invited, now a suppliant, could I ex- 
pect the same success ? Roze took charge of my 
letter ; understood the subject of my impatience ; 
and repaired to lay it on the table, and urge its be- 
ing read. An hour elapsed. I walked hastily 
backwards and forwards : every time the door open- 
ed my eyes were cast towards the hall, but it was 
immediately shut by the guard : a fearful noise was 
heard at intervals : Roze again appeared. — >■ 
^' Well?" — " Nothing has been done yet. A tumult 



MADAME ROLAND. 221 

I cannot describe prevails in the assembly. Some 
petitioners, now at the bar demand the two-and-twen- 
ty io be apprehended : I have just assisted Riband 
to slip out without being seen ; they are not willing 
he should make the report of the commission of 
twelve : he has been threatened : several others are 
escaping : there is no knowing what will be the 
event." — " Who is the president now ?" — " He- 
raut-Sechelles." *^ Ah ! my letter will not be read. 
Send some deputy to me, with whom I can speak 
a few words." — '' Whom?" — ''Indeed I have 
been little acquainted, or have little esteem for any, 
but those, who are proscribed. Tell Vergniaux I 
am inquiring for him." 

' Roze went in quest of him. After a consider- 
able time he appeared. We talked together for 
ten minutes. He went back into the hall, return- 
ed, and said to me : " In the present state of the 
assembly, I dare not flatter you ; you have little to 
hope. If you get admission to the bar, you may 
obtain a little more favor as a woman ; but the con- 
vention can do no more good." — "It can do 
everything," exclaimed I; "for the majority of 
Paris seeks only to know what it has to do. If I 
were admitted, I would venture to say, what you 
could not, v/ilhout exposing yourself to an accusa- 
tion. I fear nothing ; and if I cannot save Roland, 
I will utter v/ith energy truths, which will not be 
useless to the republic. Inform your worthy col- 
leagues : a burst of courage may have a great effect, 
and at least will set a great example." — In fact, I 



222 MADAME ROLAND. 

was in that temper of mind, which imparts elo- 
quence : warm with indignation, superior to all 
fear, my bosom glowing for my country, the ruin of 
which I foresaw, everything dear to me in the world 
exposed to the utmost danger, feeling strongly, ex- 
pressing my sentiments with fluency, too proud not 
to utter them with dignity, I had subjects in which 
I was highly interested to discuss, possessed some 
means of defending them, and was in a singular 
situation for doing it with advantage. 

" But at any rate, your letter cannot be read this 
hour or tw^o : a plan of a decree, forming six articles, 
is going to be discussed : petitioners, deputed by the 
sections, wait at the bar : think what an attempt !" 

— "I will go home, then, to hear what has passed ; 
and will immediately return : so tell our friends." 

— " Most of them are absent : they show themselves 
courageous, when they are here ; but they are de- 
ficient in assiduity." — " That is unfortunately too 
true." 

* I quitted Vergniaux : I flew to Louvet's : I 
wrote a note to inform him of what was going on, 
and what I foresaw. I flung myself into a hackney- 
coach, and ordered it home. The poor horses 
answered not the speed of my wishes. Soon we 
were met by some battalions, whose march stopped 
us : I jumped out of the coach, paid the coachman, 
rushed through the ranks, and made off. This 
was near the Louvre. I ran to our house, which 
was opposite St Come, in Harp -street. The porter 
whispered me, that Roland was gone into the land- 



MADAME ROLAND. 233 

lord's, at the bottom of the court. Thither I re- 
paired, in a profuse perspiration. A glass of wine 
was brought me, and I was told that the bearer of 
the mandate of Sinest havinor returned, without be- 
ing able to procure a hearing at the council, Ro- 
land had persisted in protesting against his orders ; 
and that these good people had demanded his pro- 
test in writing, and had then withdrawn : after 
which Roland went through the landlord's apart- 
ment, and got out of the house the back way. I 
did the same to find him, to inform him of what 
I had done, and to acquaint him with the steps I 
meant to pursue. At the first house to which I re- 
paired, I found him not : in the second I did. 
From the solitariness of the streets, which were 
illuminated, I presumed it was late ; yet this did 
not prevent my design of returning to the conven- 
tion. There I would have appeared ignorant of 
Roland's escape, and spoken as I before intended . 
I was about to set off on foot, without being con- 
scious, that it was past ten o'clock, and that I was 
out that day for the first time since my illness, 
which demanded rest and the bath. A hackney- 
coach was brought me. On approaching the Car- 
rousel, I saw nothing more of the armed force : 
two pieces of cannon, and a few men, were still at 
the gate of th e national palace : I went up to it, 
and found the sitting was dissolved ! 

* What, on the day of an insurrection, when the 
sound of the alarm-bell scarcely ceases to strike 
the ear, when forty thousand men in arms sur- 



224 MADAME ROLAND. 

rounded the convention only two hours before, and 
petitioners threatened its members from the bar, 
the assembly is not permanent ! — Surely then it is 
completely subjugated ! it has done everything, 
that it was ordered ! The revolutionary power is 
so mighty, that the convention dares not oppose it, 
and it has no need of the convention ! 

' " Citizens," said I to -some sans-culottes collect- 
ed round a cannon, " has everything gone well ?" 

— " O wonderfully ! they embraced, and sung the 
hymn of the Marseillese, there, under the tree of 
liberty." — " What, then, is the right side appeas- 
ed ?" — '' Faith, it was obliged to listen to reason." 
— " And what of the committee of twelve ?" — " It 
is kicked into the ditch." — " And the twentytwo ?" 

— " The municipality will cause them to be taken 
up." — " Good : but can it '?" — " Is it not the sove- 
reign ? It was necessary it should, to set those 
b of traitors right, and support the common- 
wealth." — "But will the departments be vtell 
pleased to see their representatives * * * * — 
" What are you talking of ? the Parisians do 
nothing but in concert with the departments : they 
have said so to the convention." — " That is not too 
clear, for, to know their will, the primary assemblies 
should have met." — " Were they wanting on the 
10th of August ? Did not the departments ap- 
prove what Paris did then ? They do the same now ; 
it is Paris that saves them." — " That ruins them 
rather, perhaps." 

' I had crossed the court, and arrived at my hack- 



MADAME ROLAND. 225 

ney-Goach, as I finished this dialogue with an old 
sans-culotte, no doubt well paid to tutor the dupes. 
A pretty dog pressed close at my heels : — "Is the 
poor creature your's?" said the coachman to me, 
with a tone of sensibility very rare among his fel- 
lows, which struck me extremely. — " No : I am not 
acquainted with him :" answered I gravely, as if I 
were speaking of a man, and already thinking of 
something else : " you will set me down at the gal- 
leries of the Louvre." There I intended to call on 
a friend, with whom I would consult on the means 
of getting Roland out of Paris. We had not gone 
a dozen yards before the coach stopped. " What 
is the matter ?" said I to the coachman. — '' Ah, 
he has left me ; like a fool ; and I w^anted to keep 
him for my little boy. He would have been highly 
pleased with him. Wheugh ! Wheugh ! Wheugh !" 

1 recollected the dog : it w^as gratifying to me 

to have for a coachman, at such an hour, a man of 
a good heart, of feeling, and a father. " Endeavor 
to catch him :" said I, " you shall put him into the 
coach, and I will take care of him for you." — The 
good man, quite delighted, caught the dog, opened 
the door, and gave him to me for a companion. 
The poor animal appeared sensible, that he had 
found protection and an asylum : I was greatly ca- 
ressed by him, and I thought of that tale of Sandi, 
in which is described an old man, weary of his 
fellow creatures, and disgusted with their passions, 
who retired to a wood, in which he constructed 
himself a dv/elling, ofw^hich he sweetened the soli- 

15 



226 MADAME ROLAND. 

tude by means of some animals, who repaid his 
cares with testimonies of affection, and with a 
species of gratitude, to which he confined himself, 
for want of meeting with its like among mankind. 

* Pasquier had just gone to bed. He rose : I 
proposed to him my plan. We agreed that he 
should come to me the next day after seven o'clock, 
and I would inform him where to find his friend. 
I returned to my coach : it was stopped by the sen- 
try, at the post of the Woman of Samaria. "Have 
a little patience :" whispered the coachman to me, 
turning back on his seat : *' it is the custom at this 
time of night." — The serjeant came and opened 
the door. " Who is here ?" — *' A woman." — 
" Whence do you come ?" — " From the conven- 
tion." — " It is very true :" added the coachman, 
as if he feared, I should not be credited. — '' Whith- 
er are you going ?" — " Home." — " Have you no 
bundles?"— "I have nothing. See." — " But 
the assembly has broken up." — " Yes : at which 
I am very sorry, for I had a petition to make." — 
" A woman ! at this hour ! it is very strange : it is 
very imprudent." — '* No doubt it is not a very 
common occurrence : I must have had strong rea- 
sons for it." — "But, madam, alone?" — "How, 
sir, alone ! Do you not see I have innocence and 
truth with me ? what more is necessary ?" — " I 
must submit to your reasons." — " And you do 
well :" replied I, in a gentler tone : " for they are 
good." 

* The horses were so fatigued, that the coach- 



MADAME ROLAND. ' 227 

man was obliged to pull them by the bridle, to get 
them up the hill, in the street in which I resided. 
I got home : I dismissed him : and I had ascended 
eight or ten steps, when a man, close at my heels, 
who had slipped in at the gate unperceived by the 
porter, begged me to conduct him to citizen Ro- 
land. — " To his apartments, with all my heart, if 
you have anything of service to him to impart : but to 
him is impossible." — ** This evening he will cer- 
tainly be apprehended." — " They must be very 
dexterous, who accomplish it." — " You give me 
great pleasure ; for it is an honest citizen who ac- 
cbsts you." — "I am glad of it :" said I, and went 
on, without well knowing what to think of the ad- 
venture.' 

While Madame Roland was at the Convention, 
trying to arouse her husband's irresolute friends, 
he made his escape to a neighboring house, where 
she had an interview with him after she returned. 
The officers who again came to arrest him, were 
much enraged. Roland, however, eluded their 
vigilance, and reached Rouen in safety, were he 
remained concealed till a week before his death. 
It seems probable that Madame Roland might like- 
wise have effected her escape, had she taken the 
resolution promptly : but heart-sick at the wretched 
condition of her country she valued life less than 
she had done in the proud enthusiasm of her patri- 
otic hopes ; and anxious to divert the fury of the 
populace from her husband, she made no effort to 
find a shelter from the storm. ' It would have cost 



v^ 



228 MADAME ROLAND. 

me more trouble,' says she, * to escape from injus- 
tice than it does to submit to it.' The National 
seal was put upon their furniture. During this 
scene the rooms were crowded with the mob ; and 
the atmosphere became so filled with noisome ex- 
halations, that she was obliged to seek the window 
for fresh air. She was hurried away to prison on 
the charge of being an accomplice with the con- 
spirators against the liberties of France. An arm- 
ed force followed the coach ; and as it passed along 
some of the women among the populace cried out, 
* Away with her to the guillotine ! ' One of the com- 
missioners asked, ' Shall we close the blinds of the 
carriage ? ' Madame Roland replied, ' No, gentle- 
men. I do not fear the eyes of the populace. In- 
nocence should never assume the guise of crime.' 
The officer answered, ' Madam, you have more 
strength of mind than many men. You wait patient- 
ly for justice ! ' ' Justice ! ' she exclaimed ; ^ were 
justice done, I should not be here. But if I am des- 
tined for the scaffold, I shall walk to it with the 
same firmness and tranquillity with which I now 
go to prison. I never feared anything but guilt. 
But my heart bleeds for my country. I regret my 
mistake in supposing it qualified for liberty and 
happiness.' 

Having lodged her in the Abbey Prison, the 
Commissioners withdrew, leaving very severe or- 
ders with the keeper. Before they went, they took 
occasion to observe that Roland's flight was a proof 
of his guilt ; to which she replied, ' There is some- 



MADAME ROLAND. 229 

thing so abominable in persecuting a man who 
has rendered such important services in the cause 
of liberty, whose conduct has always been so open, 
and whose accounts are so clear, that he is fully 
justified in avoiding the last outrages of envy and 
malice. Just as Aristides, and as severe as Cato, 
he is indebted to his virtues for his enemies. Let 
them satiate their fury on me — I defy its power, 
and devote myself to death. He ought to save 
himself for the sake of a country to which he may 
yet do good.' An awkward and confused bow was 
the only answer the officers thought fit to make. 

Neither promises nor threats could induce her 
to reveal the secret of her husband's retreat. Her 
constant reply was, ' I scorn to tell a falsehood ; I 
know his plans ; but I neither ought nor choose to 
tell them.' 

Eudora was left by lier mother to the care of the 
weeping domestics. ' Those people love you,' ob- 
served one of the Commissioners. * I never had 
those about me who did not,' she replied. She 
alone remained calm and proud, amid the most 
touching demonstrations of affection and distress. 
Soon after her departure, the kind-hearted Bosc, 
who had long been a friend to the minister and 
his wife, took upon himself the responsibility of 
providing for Eudora ; and immediately placed her 
with a worthy woman, who watched over her with 
truly maternal tenderness. 

By the kindness of the keeper and his wife, 
Madame Roland was made as comfortable as a 



230 MADAME ROLAND. 

prisoner could be ; the woman expressed the regret 
she always felt when female prisoners were brought 
in ; adding, ' All of them have not your serene 
countenance, madam.' 

Madame Roland's '^first care was to arrange her 
little apartment with neatness and order. She had 
Thomson's Seasons in her pocket ; and she procur- 
ed Hume's History and Sheridan's Dictionary, in 
order to pursue her study of the English language. 
While she was making those peaceful preparations, 
the drums were beating, the alarm-bells ringing — 
and in the night she was continually awakened 
by the thundering voices of the patroles under her 
window, calling out, ' Who goes there ? — Kill him ! 
— Guard ! — Patrole ! ' 

Firm and unmoved in the anticipation of her own 
fate, her heart often bled at the thought of what 
her friends were suffering on her account ; particu- 
larly ' Roland proscribed and persecuted, and com- 
pelled to drink the bitter cup of his wife's imprison- 
ment.' By the connivance of the compassionate 
keeper several of her friends gained access to her. 
A favorite maid, who had lived with her many years, 
was willing to devote herself to her even unto 
death ; and through her she frequently conveyed 
her opinions and wishes to the political friends of 
her husband. By their advice she wrote an elo- 
quent Address to the National Convention, which 
concludes thus : ' Lastly, I demand of the Con- 
vention a report on the accounts of that irreproach- 
able man, who seems destined to give Europe a 



MADAME ROLAND. 231 

terrible lesson of virtue proscribed by the blind- 
ness of infuriate prejudice. If to have shared the 
strictness of his principles, the energy of his mind, 
the ardor of his love for liberty, be a crime — then 
indeed I acknowledge myself guilty, and await my 
punishment. Pronounce your sentence, legislators ! 
France, freedomj the fate of the republic, and of 
yourselves, depend on your decision.' 

Two other addresses were written by the prison- 
er, to demand a statement of the crimes for w^hich 
she had been arrested, and to insist upon an open 
and impartial trial ; one was addressed to the Min- 
ister of Justice, the other to the Minister of the 
Home Department. Hearing that their section 
(that of Beaurepaire) had expressed sentiments 
highly favorable to Roland, she resolved to place 
herself under its protection. In her letter she says, 
* If the section think it not beneath its dignity to 
plead the cause of suffering innocence, it w^ill be 
easy to send a deputation to the bar of the Conven- 
tion to make known my complaints and to add 
weight to my arguments ; I submit this point to its 
wisdom ; I add no entreaties. Those who love 
justice do not need petitions ; and innocence and 
truth should never resort to supplication.' 

The section were desirous of affording protec- 
tion ; but their timid efforts afforded no barrier to 
the overwhelming power of the Mountain Party. 
Madame Roland, in the meantime, completely gain- 
ed the hearts of her keeper and their attendants, 
by her patient cheerfulness. She waited entirely 



232 MADAME ROLAND. 

upon herself, because she preferred to be employed, 
and because she did not expect to find in a prison 
the scrupulous neatness which her habits required ; 
yet unwilling to deprive the servants of their cus- 
tomary perquisites, she frequently made them pres- 
ents. Her food was as simple as the repasts of an 
anchorite ; but despising useless economy the mon- 
ey saved in this way was distributed among her 
fellow-prisoners. The first five weeks were em- 
ployed in writing Historic Notices of the scenes, 
she had witnessed, and the characters with whom 
she had associated. The person to whom she in- 
trusted these documents was placed in great peril, 
and she was led to suppose that he had destroyed 
them to secure his own safety. The idea seems to 
have distressed her more than any of her previous 
misfortunes. She busied herself to repair the loss ; 
and as both sets of papers were afterward published 
with her memoirs, there is of course a good deal of 
repetition. 

Her friends, being aware of her passionate love 
of flowers, found means to send them to her fre- 
quently. She says, ' The sight of a flower always 
delighted my imagination, and flattered my senses, 
to an inexpressible degree. Under the happy shel- 
ter of my paternal roof I was happy from infancy 
with my flowers and books ; in the narrow con- 
fines of a prison with books and flowers, I can for- 
get my own misfortunes and the injustice of man- 
kind.' The jailer used to admire the pleasure she 
took in arranging her bouquets ; he often said to 



MADAME ROLAND. 233 

her, ' I shall always call this room the Pavilion of 
Flora, in remembrance of you.' The next occu- 
pant of that apartment was her friend Brissot ; 
and the next was the celebrated Charlotte Cord ay. 

The promised examination was deferred. She 
says, ' However, I sometimes received visits from 
administrators with foolish faces and dirty ribands, 
some of whom said they belonged to the police, 
and others to I know not what ; violent sans-culottes , 
with filthy hair, who came to know if the prison- 
ers were satisfied with their treatment. They 
asked, " Is your health impaired ? Does solitude 
affect your spirits ? " — " No. I am well and cheer- 
ful. Ennui is the disease of hearts without feel- 
ing, and of minds without resources. All I ask is 
an examination, that I may know why I am im- 
prisoned." — '^ In a revolution there is so much to do, 
that there is not time for everything." " A woman 
said to King Phillip, ' if you have not time to do 
justice, you have no time to be a king.' Tell the 
sovereign people the same things ; or rather the 
arbitrary authorities by whom the people are mis- 
led." ' ' 

Madame Roland would never comply with the 
popular whim of substituting the word Citizen for 
the customary appellation of Monsieur. The Jac- 
obin officers, who came to look at her in her cage, 
were highly incensed at her obstinacy in accost- 
ing them with a title they had branded as aristo- 
cratic. 

On the 24th of June, two men came to inform 



234 MADAME ROLAND. 

her that she was at liberty ; and before noon she 
bade farewell to the kind jailer and his wife. The 
following is her account of this cruel mockery : 
* I drove home to leave a few things there, intend- 
ing to proceed immediately to the house of the 
worthy people, who had so generously protected my 
daughter. I quitted the hackney-coach with that 
activity which never allowed me to get out of a 
carriage without jumping, passed under the gate- 
way like a bird, and said cheerfully to the porter 
as I went by, " Good morning, Lamarre ! " I had 
scarcely put my foot upon the steps, when two men 
who had followed me closely, called out, " Citoyenne 
Roland !" — " What do you wish ? " — " In the 
name of the law, we arrest you ! " — Those who 
have feelings, can imagine something of what I 
felt at that moment.' She asked permission to go 
to her landlord's house on some business ; and the 
officers followed her thither. Here she avowed 
her resolution of putting herself under the protec- 
tion of her section. Her landlord's son, with all the 
warmth and indignation of youth, immediately offer- 
ed to carry a message for her. He was afterward 
dragged to the scaffold for this act of generosity, 
and his father died of grief Two commissioners 
of her section came and attended her to the 
mayor's. She remained guarded in the anticham- 
ber, while the discussion went on with increasing 
warmth ; in vain she pleaded her right to be pres- 
ent at a debate of which she was the subject. But 
when a police-officer came to take her into custody, 



MADAME ROLAND. ~" 235 

she set the door of the office wide open, and ex- 
claimed aloud, " Commissioners of the section of 
Beaurepaire ! T give you notice they are taking 
me to prison ! " '' We cannot help it^'' was the re- 
ply ; " But the section will not forget you ; you 
shall have a public examination." Noise and fury 
left no chance for reason to be heard : She was 
conveyed to the prison of Sainte Pelagie. The 
wing appropriated to females was divided into long 
narrow corridors, on one side of which were very 
small cells ; one of which Madame Roland occu- 
pied. Under the same roof, upon the same line, 
and separated only by a very thin partition, were 
murderers, and women of the town ; and in the 
morning, (the only time when the doors were open- 
ed) this scum of the earth collected in the corri- 
dors. Under such circumstances, Madame Roland, 
of course, confined herself very strictly to her cells; 
but the thinness of the partitions compelled her 
to hear the blasphemous and lascivious conversa- 
tion of these wretches. To make the state of things 
worse, the apartments occupied by the men had 
windows fronting the cells occupied by these aban- 
doned women ; and during the whole day she 
could not raise her eyes to the windows without 
witnessing some specimen of human depravity. 
Even in the remotest corner of her noisome cell 
she could not shut her ears against disgusting lan- 
guage. She says, ' Such was the dwelling reserved 
for the virtuous wife of an honest man ! Who can 
wonder at my contempt of life 1 Who cannot un- 



236 MADAME ROLAND. 

derstand that death itself had charms. Such are 
the signs of liberty given by men, who, in the 
Champ de Mars, send up birds carrying streamers, 
to announce to the inhabitants of the upper regions 
the freedom and felicity of the earth.' 

The jailer's wife, impressed with the serene 
dignity of her manners, invited her to pass the 
days in her little parlor. A piano was brought, 
with which she sometimes wiled away the linger- 
ing hours ; and her friends still found means to 
cheer her with her favorite flowers. Hope, for a 
while, revived her patriotic zeal ; for the rising of 
several departments announced the indignation of 
the people, and threatened the overthrow of Ro- 
bespierre. She was not, however, suffered to enjoy 
the external means of comfort which had been 
offered her. The inspectors of the prisons severe- 
ly reprimanded the jailer's wife for her kindness, 
telling her it was her business to maintain equality. 
Thus Madame Roland was compelled to return to 
the fetid air of the corridor, sadly illuminated by a 
lamp, the smoke of which suffocated the whole 
neighborhood. 

True to the firmness and consistency of her char- 
acter, she comforted the jailer's wife by the cheer- 
ful resignation with which she submitted to the 
change. In the morning she read English in 
Thomson's Seasons, and Shaftsbury's Essay on 
Virtue, She then amused herself with drawing 
until dinner-time ; speaking of the pleasure she 
found in this employment, she urges the necessity 



MADAME ROLAND. 237 

of acquiring accomplishments as a resource in soli- 
tude and sorrow. The afternoons she devoted to 
Plutarch and Tacitus. The latter inspired her 
with passionate admiration. She says, ' If fate had 
allowed me to live, I believe I should have been 
ambitious of but one thing ; and that would have 
been to write the Annals of the Present Age. I 
cannot go to sleep till I have read a portion of Ta- 
citus. It seems to me that we see things in the 
same light, and that, in time, and with a subject 
equally rich, it would not have been impossible for 
me to imitate his style.' 

It was some alleviation of her situation, that 
Robespierre filled the neighboring corridors with 
virtuous women ; like her, the victims of the most 
abominable tyranny that ever disgraced the earth. 
Some of these ladies were the wives of Roland's 
political friends. Their fortunes were confiscated 
to the nation, and they often suffered for the com- 
mon necessaries of life. Madame Roland beinsr 
unable to meet her few and simple wants, asked 
one of her former domestics to sell some empty 
bottles in her cellar, on which the seal of the na- 
tion had not been placed ; but a great outcry was 
immediately raised, and a guard placed round the 
house. 

Madame Roland remained in the cell of Sainte 
Pelagic until the 1st of October. Her friends 
wished to assist her in making her escape ; 
but she answered, ^ I have fixed my resolution to 
remain here and await my fate ; my flight would 
only exasperate my husband's enemies. 



238 MADAME ROLAND. 

In prison, surrounded by dangers and alarms of 
every kind, hourly expecting a summons to the 
scaffold, she wrote her memoirs. Calumniated on 
all sides, she was naturally desirous that posterity 
should grant to her husband and herself the im- 
partial hearing, which their cotemporaries denied. 
She says, ' I shall exhibit the fair and unfavorable 
side of my character with equal freedom. He who 
dares not speak well of himself is generally a cow- 
ard, knowing and dreading the evil that may be 
said of him ; and he who hesitates to confess his 
faults, has neither spirit to vindicate, nor virtue to 
repair them. Thus frank with respect to myself, I 
shall not be scrupulous with regard to others. 
Father, mother, friends, husband — I shall paint 
them all in their proper colors ; at least as they 
appeared to me.' 

As these memoirs followed the current of her 
thoughts, without any order, they are naturally in- 
terspersed with apostrophes, and reflections, of 
which the following are a sample : *My much re- 
vered husband, grown weak and weary of thq 
world, and sunk into premature old age, which 
you preserve by painful efforts from the pursuit of 
the assassins — shall I ever be permitted to see you 
again, to pour the balm of consolation into your 
sorely bruised heart 1 — How much longer am I 
destined to remain a witness of the desolation of 
my native land, and the degradation of my country- 
men 1 Assailed by these afflicting images, I can- 
not steel my heart against sorrow : a few scalding 



MADAME ROLAND. 239 

tears start from my heavy eyes ; and the pen, that 
passed so lightly over my youthful days, is suffered 
to lie idle.' ***** =;;^ 

' Thou Supreme Being ! Principle of everything 
that is good and great ! Thou in whose existence I 
believe, because I must needs emanate from some- 
thing better than what I see around me — I shall 
soon be re-united to thine essence.' 

# # * * * * # 

'All- whom heaven in its bounty has given me for 
friends, I beseech you cherish my orphan. A young 
plant violently torn from its native soil, where it 
would, perchance, have been withered, or bruised 
by the spoiler ; but you have placed her in a kind- 
ly shelter, beneath a reviving shade. May her vir- 
tues repay your care i * * * And 
she, my darling girl, cannot appear in the streets 
with her beautiful fair hair, and her youthful bash- 
fulness, but she is pointed at by hirelings, as the 
child of a conspirator.' 

' Farewell, my dear child, my worthy husband, 
' my faithful servant, and my good friends — Fare- 
well, thou sun, whose resplendent beams used to 
shed serenity over my soul, while they recalled it 
to the skies — Farewell, ye solitary fields, which I 
have so often contemplated with emotion — And 
you, ye rustic inhabitanis of Thezee, who were 
wont to bless my presence, whom I attended in 
sickness, whose labors I alleviated, whose indigence 
I relieved, farewell. — Farevv^ell, peaceful re- 
tirements, where I enriched my mind with moral 



240 MADAME ROLAND. 

truths, and learned, in the silence of meditation, to 
govern my passions, and despise the vanity of the 
world. 

' Splendid chimeras ! from vi^hich I have reaped 
so much delight, you are all dispelled by the horri- 
ble corruptions of this vast city. Farevt^ell, my 
country ! Sublime illusions, generous sacrifices, 
hope, and happiness, farewell !' 

While in prison, she wrote a very remarkable 
letter to Robespierre, from which I cannot for- 
bear taking an extract : — 'I regarded the first cal- 
umnies invented against me as contemptible follies ; 
but they have increased with effrontery propor- 
tioned to my calmness. * I have been dragged to 
prison, where I have remained nea,rly five months ; 
far removed from everything dear to me ; loaded 
with the abuse of a deluded populace, who believe 
that my death will be conducive to their happiness ; 
hearing the guards under my grated window divert- 
ing themselves with the idea of my punishmignt; 
and reading the offensive reproaches of writers who 
never saw my face. Yet I have wearied no one 
with remonstrances. Wanting many things, I 
have asked for nothing ; I have hoped for justice, 
and an end to prejudice, from the hand of time. 
I have made up my mind to misfortune — proud of 
trying my strength with her, and trampling her 
under my feet. It is not, Robespierre, to excite 
your compassion, that I present you with a picture 
less melancholy than the truth. I am above asking 



MADAME ROLAND. 241 

your pity ; and were it offered, I should perhaps 
deem it an insult. I write for your instruction. 
Fortune is fickle ; and popular favor is liable to 
change. Contemplate the fate of those who have 
agitated, pleased, or governed the people, from 
Viscellinus to Caesar, and from Hippo of Syracuse 
to our Parisian orators ! Justice and truth alone 
remain, a consolation in every misfortune, even in 
the hour of death ; while nothing can shelter us 
from the strokes of conscience. Marius and Sylla 
proscribed thousands of knights, senators, and 
wretched men. Can they stifle the voice of history, 
which has devoted their memories to execration ? 
If you wish to be just, and attend to what I write, 
my letter will not be useless to you, and may possi- 
bly be of service to my country. Be that as it 
may, Robespierre, your conscience must tell you 
that a person who has known me cannot persecute 
me without remorse.' 

This manly letter was not sent to the monster 
for whom it was designed, because she feared it 
would do no good, and only serve to exasperate a 
tyrant * who might sacrifice her, but who could not 
degrade her.' 

The two following letters were written October 
18th, 1793. 

* TO MY DAUGHTER. 

* I do not know, my dear girl, whether I shall be 

allowed to see or write to you again. Remember 

your mother^ In these few words is contained the 

best advice I can give you. You have seen me 

16 



242 MADAME ROLAND. 

happy in fulfilling my duties, and in giving assist- 
ance to those in distress. It is the only way of 
being happy. You have seen me tranquil in mis-^ 
fortune and confinement, because I was free from 
remorse, and because I enjoyed the pleasing re- 
collections, that good actions leave behind them. 
These are th6 only things that can enable us to 
support the evils of life, and the vicissitudes of for- 
tune. Perhaps you are not fated, and I hope you 
are not, to undergo trials so severe as mine ; but 
there are others, against which you ought to be 
equally on your guard. Serious and industrious 
habits are the best preservative against every 
danger ; and necessity, as well as prudence, com- 
mands you to persevere diligently in your studies. 
Be worthy of your parents. They leave you great 
examples to follow ; and if you are careful to avail 
yourself of them, your existence will not be useless 
to mankind. Farewell, my beloved child — you 
who drew life from my bosom, and whom I wish to 
impress with all my sentiments. The time will 
come, when you will be better able to judge of the 
efforts I make at this moment, to repress the tender 
emotions excited by your dear image. I press you 
to my heart. Farewell, my Eudora.' 

' TO MY FAITHFUL SERVANT, FLEURY. 

' My dear Fleury, whose fidelity and attach- 
ment have been so grateful to me for thirteen 
years, receive my embraces, and my farewell. 
Preserve the remembrance of what I was. It 



MADAME ROLAND. 243 

will console you for what I suffer. The good 
pass on to glory when they descend into the grave. 
My sorrows are nearly ended. Think of the peace 
I am about to enjoy, which nobody can disturb, and 
do not grieve for me. Tell my poor Agatha that 
I carry with me to the grave the satisfaction of 
being beloved by her from my childhood, and the 
regret of not being able to give her proofs of my 
attachment. I could have wished to be of service 
to you — at least, do not let me afflict you. Fare- 
well, my poor Fleury — farewell.' 

The first of October witnessed the execution of 
the twentytwo deputies of the Girondins ; and 
soon after, Madame Roland was removed to 
the prison of the Conciergerie ; where she was 
placed in a noisome room, and compelled to sleep 
without sheets, upon a bed, which a fellow prisoner 
was good enough to lend her. Two days succes- 
siv'ely, she was called before the tribunal for exami- 
nation. On these occasions, she exhibited her usual 
fearless eloquence, and unbending courage, temper- 
ed with an extreme degree of caution in all that 
could implicate her husband, or friends. When 
asked whether she had any idea where Roland was, 
she answered, ' I know of no law which requires 
me to betray the dearest'sentiments of nature.' 
Upon which, the public accuser exclaimed that there 
was no end to her loquacity. She smiled serenely 
as she retired from the tribunal, saying, ' How 1 
pity you ! I forgive the unworthy things you have 



244 MADAME ROLAND. 

said to me. You believe me to be a great criminal, 
and are impatient to convict me ; but how unfor- 
tunate are those who cherish such prejudices ! You 
can send me to the scaffold ; but you cannot deprive 
me of the satisfaction 1 derive from a good con- 
science, nor of the belief that posterity will revenge 
Roland and me, by consigning our persecutors to 
infamy. In return for the ill you mean to do me, 
I wish you the same peace of mind that I enjoy, 
whatever may be its reward.' 

Being desired to choose an advocate for her 
trial, she named Chauveau. That night she wrote 
a defence,* which she intended to read before the 
tribunal : it is remarkable for its acuteness, elo- 
quence, boldness and power. But alas, of what avail 
was reason against such men as she contended with ! 

The trial was a mockery. ' Madame Roland was 
not allowed to speak ; and hired ruffians vomited 
forth the most atrocious calumnies before other 
ruffians — all the execrable tools of Robespierre. 
A man, who had served M. Roland about eight 
months, was the only one who dared to speak 
truth ; and he was soon after sent to the scaffold 
to atone for the crime.' ' Madame Roland went to 
the place of trial with her usual firmness ; but 
when she returned, her eyes were glistening with 
tears. She had been treated with so much bru- 
tality, and questions so injurious to her honor had 
been asked, that her grief and indignation burst 
forth together.' 

* This Defence is added at the end of the volume. 



MADAME ROLAND. 245 

When her advocate came to concert with her 
the means of defence for the ensuing day, she lis- 
tened calmly, and drawing a ring from her finger, 
presented it to him, saying, ' Do not come to the 
tribunal tomorrow. It cannot save me ; and it 
may ruin you. Accept the only token my poor 
gratitude can offer. Tomorrow, I shall no longer 
exist.' 

At one time she procured opium and resolved 
to die by her own hand ; she wrote her will, and 
gave detailed directions concerning the educa- 
tion of her daughter, and the management of that 
small part of her fortune, which she vainly hoped 
the laws would protect from the power of her ene- 
mies. She wrote to the lady who protected Eudora, 
expressing a wish that she might be sent to the 
paternal estate in the country, ' there to wait for 
happier days ; to cultivate her faculties, and pre- 
pare to meet reverses without fearing them, as well 
as to enjoy prosperity without being ambitious of 
it ; according to the example of parents, who lived 
without reproach and would die without terror.' 

While in this frame of mind, she writes thus : 
* Two months ago I aspired to the honor of ascend- 
ing the scaffold ; for the victim was then allowed to 
speak, and the energy of a courageous mind might 
have been serviceable to the cause of truth. But 
why should I now expose myself to the brutal in- 
solence of a mob too much deluded to derive any 
benefit from my death V 

Being summoned as a witness concerning the 



246 MADAME ROLAND. 

accusations against her political friends, she says, 
* I wish to deserve death by giving in my testimony 
while they live ; I am impatient for the summons ; 
for I am afraid of losing the chance. This induces 
me to change the purpose for which all was pre- 
pared when I made my will. I will then drain the 
bitter cup to the last drop.' 

When sentence of death was pronounced against 
her, she said to her judges, ' You have thought me 
worthy to partake the fate of the great and good 
men, whom you have murdered ; I shall try to carry 
to the scaffold the same courage that they have 
shown.' 

' On the day of her execution, she was dressed 
neatly in white, which was chosen as a symbol of 
her innocence ; and her long black hair fell in 
ringlets to her waist. After her condemnation, 
she passed into the prison with a quick step, that 
seemed like joy, and indicated to her fellow-prison- 
ers, by an expressive gesture that she was condemned 
to die. Lamarche was her companion in misfortune ; 
and his courage was not equal to her own ; but on 
her way to the scaffold, she talked with such un- 
affected cheerfulness that she made him smile sever- 
al times. When arrived at the place of execution, 
she bowed before the statue of Liberty, and uttered 
the memorable words — ' Oh liberty ! loliat crimes 
are commitied in thy name !' 

The following description of her is taken from 
Roiuffe's ' Memoirs of a Prisoner ; or a History of 
the Tyranny of Robespierre.' Roiuffe was one of 



MADAME ROLAND. 247 

her companions in peril : ' Well aware of the fate 
that awaited her, her tranquillity remained undis- 
turbed. Though past the prime of life, she was 
still a charming woman. She was tall, and elegant- 
ly formed. Her countenance was expressive ; but 
misfortune and long confinement had left traces of 
melancholy on her face, which tempered its natural 
vivacity. She had the soul of a republican in a 
body moulded by the graces ; and fashioned by a 
certain courtly style of elegance. There was some- 
thing more than the usual feminine expression in her 
large dark eyes, which were soft and full of mean- 
ing. She often spoke tome at the bars with the 
freedom and courage of a great man. Such republi- 
can language in the mouth of a beautiful French 
woman, preparing for the scaffold, was a miracle 
of the Revolution, for which we were not prepared. 
We all stood listening to her with admiration and 
astonishment. Her conversation was serious with- 
out being cold ; and she expressed herself with 
such a choice of words, such harmony and cadence, 
that the ear was never satiated with the music of 
her language. She spoke of her political friends 
with respect ; but without effeminate regret, and 
often lamented their want of firmness. Sometimes 
her sex resumed the ascendencv ; and we saw that 
she had been weeping at the recollection of her 
husband and her child. The woman who waited 
on her, said to me one day, '' Before you, she sum- 
mons all her courage ; but in her own room, she 
sometimes leans against the casement, and weeps 



243 MADAME ROLAND. 

for hours together." This union of softness and 
fortitude rendered her the more interesting. She 
remained eight days at the Concie?'gerie ; and in 
that short time rendered herself dear to all the pri- 
soners, who sincerely deplored her fate.' 

Madame Talma, wife of the celebrated actor, 
was confined in the prison with Madame Roland. 
She says, ' she behaved with great heroism on her 
way to the scaffold, but the evening before, she was 
uncommonly agitated. She spent the night in play- 
ing on the harpsichord ; but the air she struck, and 
her manner of playing, were so strange, so shock- 
ing, and so frightful, that the sounds will never 
escape my memory.' 

The following account published in the Moni- 
teiir, a paper in the service of her most violent 
enemies, corroborates the account of her fortitude, 
though it chooses to ascribe her firmness to the 
most unworthy motives. ^ Roland's wife, — a ge- 
nius for great projects, a philosopher of well-worded 
billets, a queen of the moment, surrounded by mer- 
cenary writers, to whom she gives suppers, distri- 
buting favors, places and money, — was a monster 
in every point of view. The disdainful looks she 
cast upon the people, and the judges chosen by the 
people, the proud obstinacy of her replies, her iron- 
ical gayety, and the firmness, of which she made 
such a parade, as she passed from the Palais de 
Justice to the Place de la Revolution, proved that 
her heart cherished no tender and affecting remem- 
brance. Nevertheless, she was a mother ; but she 



MADAME ROLAND. 249 

had sacrificed nature by her attempts to rise above 
it. Her desire to be considered a talented and 
learned woman led her to forget the virtues appro- 
priate to her sex ; and this forgetfulness, always 
dangerous, finally led her to the scaffold.' 

Here is a precious moral lesson from the satel- 
lites of Robespierre ! men, who had neither virtue, 
learning, nor any other quality, that dignifies human 
nature — whose characters present the most dis- 
gusting and awful combination of the beasts of the 
earth with the spirits of the lower regions. 

Madame Roland had faults, and, in some re- 
spects her opinions are only useful in teaching us 
what to avoid ; but it is not true that her talents led 
her to neglect the domestic virtues ; on this sub- 
ject, she thought wisely, and conducted admirably. 

The Hon< A, H. Everett, in his Lecture before 
the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Associa- 
tion, pays the following tribute to the memory of 
Madame Roland : — 

' But the most interesting person among the Gi- 
rondins, and the one who may perhaps be consid- 
ered the leader of the party, was the celebrated 
Madame Roland. Though educated under cir- 
cumstances not favorable to improvement, she had 
by the mere force of her own talent, placed her- 
self on a level, in point of information and extent 
of views, with the highest minds of her own, or 
any other time. She co-operated actively with her 
husband in the discharge of the duties of his de- 
partmentj and although she shared, in no small de« 



250 MADAME ROLAND. 

gree, the exaggerations and deltisions of the period, 
she nevertheless exhibited a sounder sense, and a 
more resolute humanity than any of her political 
associates. She made the strongest effort in par- 
ticular to prevent her friends from being carried 
away by the more violent party, into a co-operation 
with the measures that led to the trial and condem- 
nation of the unfortunate king. She wrote with 
an eloquence and manly vigor, which would have 
done honor to the best authors in the language.' 

The London Critical Review says, ' As a wo- 
man, Madame Roland must be admired for her 
fancy, her abilities, her fidelity, and her magna- 
nimity in suffering. She was, however, far from 
being exempt from the most common failings of her 
sex or nation. In any country but her own, in any 
situation but that of a proscribed and persecuted 
woman, she would have made a distinguished fig- 
ure in life ; for she was ambitious of distinc- 
tion, and her abilities offered the only justification 
of which ambition is capable. The objections to 
her character are common to her with most of the 
French writers and politicians of that period. 
They are philosophers without wisdom, and moral- 
ists without religion. They form theories which 
promise the duration of ages ; but their practice is the 
immediate feeling of the moment.' 

Madame Roland was executed on the 8th of 
November, 1793, just as she was entering her for- 
tieth year. The sentence of condemnation was 
thus worded : * The public accuser has drawn up 



MADAME ROLAND. 251 

the present indictment against Manon-Jeanne 
Phlipon, the wife of Roland, heretofore minister of 
the interior, for having wickedly, and designedly, 
aided and assisted in the conspiracy which existed 
against the unity and indivisibility of the republic, 
against the liberty and safety of the French people, 
by assembling at her house, in secret council, the 
principal chiefs of that conspiracy, and by keeping 
up a correspondence tending to facilitate their lib- 
erticide designs. The tribunal, having heard the 
public accuser deliver his reasons concerning the 
application of the law, condemns Manon-Jeanne, 
Phlipon, wife of Roland, to the punishment of 
death.' 

Madame Roland had often said her husband 
would not long survive her. The news of her death 
at first deprived him of his senses ; which only re- 
turned to make him feel more acutely the extrem- 
ity of anguish and despair. At first he resolved to 
go to Paris, to brave the fury of the Convention by 
uttering a few bold truths, and then follow her he 
had so much loved to the scaffold. But as his pub- 
lic condemnation would involve the confiscation of 
all his property, he hoped to save his daughter from 
poverty by committing suicide. On the 15th of 
November he left his retreat, being resolved not to 
bring ruin^on his benefactors by betraying their 
generosity. Having wandered several leagues to- 
ward Paris, he stopped, leaned against a tree, and 
stabbed himself with a sword, which he had carried 
in his cane. In his pocket was this letter : 



252 MADAME ROLAND. 

' Whoever you may be, that find me in my last 
repose, respect my remains! They are those of a 
man who consecrated his whole life to usefulness, 
and who has died as he lived, virtuous and honest. 
May my fellow-citizens learn to entertain more 
humane and gentle sentiments; the blood which 
is flowing in torrents in my country dictates this 
advice : these massacres can only be instigated by 
the most cruel enemies of France. Indignation, 
not fear, induced me to quit my retreat. When I 
heard the fate of my wife, I no longer wished to 
live in a world so polluted with crime.' 

His request was not complied with ; the rage of 
party spirit heaped the most insulting indignities 
upon his corpse. His fortune was confiscated to the 
nation. 

In 1 795 Madame Roland's memoirs, accompanied 
by some detached notes and historic sketches, were 
published by M. Bosc, for the benefit of her orphan, 
under the title of An Appeal to Impartial Posterity; 
in two octavo volumes. In 1800 her works were 
all published, by her friend Champagneux, in 
three volumes : consisting of the Appeal to Posterity ; 
Works of Leisure Hours, and Various Reflections; 
A Journey to Souci, and Travels in England and 
Switzerland. 

It is a little remarkable that two women so much 
distinguished as Madame de Stael and Madame 
Roland should not have made the slighest allusion 
to each other in their writings. Madame Roland 
was twelve years older than her celebrated cotem- 



MADAME ROLAND. 253 

porary, and died before she obtained very exten- 
sive fame ; this may naturally enough account for 
her silence. But though their different rank in "^ 
society would prevent them from being personally 
known to each other, Madame de Stael must have 
heard of Madame Roland — she must have known 
how eloquently she wrote, and how courageously 
she suffered. Perhaps, amid the confused accounts 
and wilful misrepresentations of that period she 
might have been led to confound the sincere but 
sometimes wild enthusiast, with the reckless and 
violent advocates of uproar and carnage. Madame 
de Stael being much admired and flattered by the 
higher circles of society, naturally detested the 
spirit which led the Jacobins to persecute the aris- 
tocracy, and to condemn thousands to death for 
the mere accident of their birth and fortune : Mad- 
ame Roland, from her different location, viewed 
society in a totally dissimilar light ; she seldom 
met any of the aristocracy without having her feel- ^ 
ings wounded, or her pride insulted, by their arro- 
gant pretensions ; hence her strongest and deepest 
prejudices were all arrayed against them. For op- 
posite reasons, perhaps these ladies were alike in- 
capable of judging fairly of the existing evils in 
society, or of forming an impartial opinion of each 
other's merits. "^ 

A stronger reason for Madame de Stael's silence, 
than mere party prejudice, may be found in the fact 
that Madame Roland spoke very contemptuously ^ 
of M. Necker's talents, integrity, and patriotism : 



254 W A DAME flOLAND. 

she describes him as, a man of moderate abilities, 
of whom the world had a good opinion, because he 
had a great opinion of himself, and loudly proclaim-, 
ed it ; a financier, who knew only how to calculate 
the contents of a purse, and who was always talk- 
ing about his character, as profligate women talk of 
their virtue.'* 

Both Madame de StaePand Madame Rolahd are 
so much connected with political history, that the 
estimation in which they are held is still a matter 
of party spirit. Probably no advocates of Robes- 
pierre's misrule now exist to blacken the character 
of Madame Roland ; but the advocates of kings 
and nobles are very unwilling to allow that she had 
any merit, or deserves any applause. 

The ultra-royalists are not very partial to Mad- 
ame de Stael, because she wished to see the poM^er 
of the monarch restrained by a constitution; and 
as she disliked jacobinism quite as much as sh€ 
did tyranny, she pleased neither party, and was 
accused by both : in addition to this, the Bonapart- 
ists are quite willing to magnify all the imperfec- 
tions of a woman, whose very biography must cast 
a blot on the character of their hero ; they aver 
that she could not have been a true friend to free- 
dom, because she was the enemy of him who styled 

* All who liked a constitutional monarchy, or were early 
desirous of placing some limit to popular usurpation, were 
regarded hy Madame Roland, in the warmth of her zeal, 
as cold and seliish ; her censure and distrust fell upon La Fay- 
ette as well as upon M. Necker. 



MADAME ROLAND. 255 

himself * the people's king' and ' the pacificator of 
Ejurope.' 

Madame de StaeFs appeal in favor of the Queen, 
and her sympathy with the proscribed nobility, 
among whom were some of her most intimate 
friends, has been brought forward as a proof that 
she was not sincere in her professed love of liberty. 
I do not pretend to judge of the correctness of her ' 
political tendencies, — for those who know more 
than myself might well hesitate to declare what 
form of government would have been best for 
France, at that distracted period, '■ — but I am sure 
that no true republican will like her less for her 
ready and active compassion : For myself, 1 care 
little whether she had the wisdom of statesmen in \y 
her head, so long as she had the kindness of woman 
in her heart. 

I respect and admire almost every point in 
Madame Roland's character. I love her for pre- 
ferring the beauties of nature, and the quiet happi- 
ness of domestic life, to all the glittering excitements 
of society ; I revere the strictness of her moral 
principles, the purity of her intentions and the 
perfect rectitude of her conduct ; I admire the 
vigorous activity of her mind, her unyielding 
fortitude, and her uniform regard for truth. I 
warmly sympathize with her enthusiasm for liberty, :^, 
her hatred of oppression, and her contempt for the 
insolence of rank — But I confess I am sometimes 
startled by the fierceness and boldness of her ex- 
pressions. I would have had her more compassion- ^'^ 



256 MADAME ROLAND. 

ate toward that class of people, whose haughty 
condescension so well deserved her cool contempt. 
After all, iron-hearted consistency is a quality diffi- 

, cult to admire in woman. 

I might enlarge upon some other points, which 
qualify my respect for Madame Roland ; but 
I deem it more useful to ourselves, as well as 
more charitable to others, to dwell upon virtues to 
be imitated, rather than upon errors to be avoided. 

' The times in which she lived were unnatural — 

" theories were corrupt — salutary restraints broken 
down — religion cast away as an idle toy fit only 
for the superannuated — the whole system of things 

, was diseased. — At such a crisis, how could ^er- 
feet examples be expected 1 

I have endeavored to be an impartial biographer 
both to Madame de Stael and Madame Roland. 
In many respects, Madame de Stael reminds me of 
the highly gifted Athenian, — fascinating Pericles 
by her wit and eloquence — discoursing philosophy 
with Plato — inspired with genius — unable to live 
without the dangerous excitement of admiration — 
enjoying triumph — and very vain of her power. 
The latter presents herself to my mind under the 
image of a blooming Spartan damsel, — strong, ac- 
tive, and fearless — ambitious of sharing difficult, 
and dangerous enterprises — fearing death less than 
she scorned effeminacy — and boldly contending 
for the prize amid the warriors in the gymnasium. 



MADAME ROLAND. 257 



DRAUGHT OF A DEFENCE, 

BY aiADAME ROLAND, 
IJVTEWDED TO BE READ TO THE TRIBIJTVAL.^ 

The charge brought against me rests entirely 
upon the pretended fact of my being the accomplice 
of men called conspirators. My intimacy with a 
few of them is of much older date than the politi- 
cal circumstances, in consequence of which they 
are now considered as rebels ; and the correspon- 
dence we kept up through the medium of our com- 
mon friends, at the time of their departure from Pa- 
ris, was entirely foreign to public affairs. Properly 
speaking, I have been engaged in no political corres- 
pondence whatever, and in that respect I might con- 
fine myself to a simple denial ; for I certainly cannot 
be called upon to give an account of my particular 
affections. But I have a right to be proud of them, 
as well as of my conduct, nor do I wish to con- 
ceal anything from the public eye. I shall there- 
fore acknowledge, that, with expressions of regret 
at my confinement, I received an intimation that 

*.Wdtten at the Conciergerie the night after her esami- 
nation. 

17 



258 MADAME ROLAND. 

Duperret had two letters for me, whether written 
by one or by two of my friends, before or after 
their leaving Paris, I cannot say. Duperret had 
delivered them into other hands, and they never 
came to mine. Another time I received a pressing 
invitation to break my chains, and an offer of ser- 
vices, to assist me in effecting my escape, in any 
way I might think proper, and to convey me whith- 
ersoever I might afterwards wish to go. I was 
dissuaded from listening to such proposals by duty 
and bj honor ; by duty, that I might not endan- 
ger the safety of those to whose care I was con- 
fided ; and by honor, because at all events I pre- 
ferred running the risk of an unjust trial, to exposing 
myself to the suspicion of gnilt, by a flight unwor- 
thy of me. When I consented to be taken up on 
the 31st of May, it was not with the intention of 
afterwards making my escape. In that alone con- 
sists all my correspondence with my fugitive friends. 
No doubt, if all means of communication had not 
been cut off, or if I had not been prevented by 
confinement, I should have endeavored to learn 
what was become of them ; for I know of no law 
by which my doing so is forbidden. In what agCj 
or in what nation, was it ever considered a crime 
to be faithful to those sentiments of esteem and 
brotherly affection, which bind man to man ? I do 
not pretend to judge of the measures of those who 
have been proscribed : they are unknown to me ; 
but I wdll never believe in the evil intentions of 
men, of whose probity, civism, and devotion to 



MADAME ROLAND. 259 

their country, I am thoroughly convinced. If they 
erred, it was unwittingly ; they fall without being 
abased ; and I regard them as unfortunate, without 
being liable to blame. I am perfectly easy as to 
their glory, and willingly consent to participate in 
the honor of being oppressed by their enemies. I 
know those men, accused of conspiring against 
their country, to have been determined republicans, 
but humane, and persuaded that good laws were 
necessary to procure the republic the good-will of 
persons who doubted whether it could be main- 
tained ; which it must be confessed is more difficult 
than to kill them. The history of every age proves, 
that it requires great talents to lead men to virtue 
by wise institutions, while force suffices to oppress 
them by terror, or to annihilate them by death. I 
have heard them assert, that abundance, as well as 
happiness, can only proceed from an equitable, pro- 
tecting, and beneficent government ; and that the 
omnipotence of the bayonet may produce fear, but 
not bread. I have seen them animated by the most 
lively enthusiasm for the good of the people, dis- 
daining to flatter them, and resolved rather to fall 
victims to their delusion, than be the means of keep- 
ing it up. I confess these principles, and this con- 
duct, appeared to me totally different from the 
sentiments and proceedings of tyrants, or ambitious 
men, who seek to please the people to effect their 
subjugation. It inspired me with the highest es- 
teem for those generous men : this error, if an error 
it be, will accompany me to the grave, whither I 



260 MADAME ROLAND. 

shall be proud of following those, whom I was not 
permitted to accompany. 

My defence, I will venture to say, is more neces- 
sary to those, who really wish to come at the truth, 
than it is to myself Calm and contented in the 
consciousness of having done my duty, I look 
forward to futurity with perfect peace of mind. 
My serious turn, and studious habits, have preserv- 
ed me alike from the follies of dissipation, and from 
the bustle of intrigue. A friend to liberty, on 
which reflection had taught me to set a just value, 
I beheld the revolution with delight, persuaded it 
was destined to put an end to the arbitrary power I 
detested, and to the abuses I had so often lamented, 
when reflecting with pity upon the fate of the indi- 
gent classes of society. I took an interest in the 
progress of the revolution, and spoke with warmth 
of public aff'airs : but I did not pass the bounds 
prescribed by my sex. Some small talents, a 
considerable share of philosophy, a degree of 
courage more uncommon, and which did not per- 
mit me to weaken my husband's energy in danger- 
ous times : such perhaps are the qualities, which 
those who know me may have indiscreetly extolled, 
and which may have made me enemies among 
those to whom I am unknown. Roland sometimes 
employed me as a secretary ; and the famous letter 
to the king, for instance, is copied entirely in my 
hand-writing : this would be an excellent item to 
add to my indictment, if the A ustrians were trying 
me, and if they should have thought fit to extend a 



MADAME ROLAND. 261 

minister's responsibility to his wife. But Roland 
long ago manifested his knowledge, and his attach- 
ment to the great principles of politics : the proofs 
of them exist in his numerous works, published 
during the last fifteen years. — His learning and 
his probity are all his own ; nor did he stand in need 
of a wife to make him an able minister. Never 
were conferences or secret councils held at his 
house ; his colleagues, whoever they might be, and 
a few friends and acquaintance, met once a week 
at his table, and there conversed, in a public man- 
ner, on matters in which every body was concerned. 
As to the rest, the writings of that minister, which 
breathe throughout a love of order and of peace, 
and which lay down in the most forcible manner the 
best principles of morality and politics, will forever 
attest his wisdom, as his accounts will prove his in- 
tegrity. 

To return to the offence imputed to me, I have 
to observe that I never was intimate with Duperret. 
I saw him now and then at the lime of Roland's 
administration ; but he never came to our house dur- 
ing the six months that my husband was no longer in 
office. The same remark will apply to the other 
members, our friends, which surely does not accord 
with the plots and conspiracies laid to our charge. 
It is evident by my first letter to Duperret, T only 
wrote to him because I knew not to whom else to ad- 
dress myself, and because I imagined he would read- 
ily consent to oblige me. My correspondence with 
him could not then be concerted: it could not 



262 MADAME ROLAND. 

be the consequence of any previous intimacy, and 
could have only one object in view. It gave me 
afterwards an opportunity of receiving accounts 
from those who had just absented themselves, and 
with whom I was connected by the ties of friend- 
ship, independently of all political considerations. 
The latter were totally out of the question in the 
kind of correspondence I kept up with them during 
the early part of their absence. No written me- 
morial bears witness against me in that respect ; 
those adduced only leading to a belief that I par- 
took of the opinions and sentiments of the persons 
called conspirators. This deduction is well found- 
ed : I confess it without reserve, and am proud of 
- the conformity. But I never manifested my opin- 
ions in a way which can be construed into a 
crime, or which tended to occasion any disturb- 
ance. Now, to become an accomplice in any plan 
whatever, it is necessary to give advice, or to fur- 
nish means of execution. I have done neither ; I 
am not then reprehensible in the eye of the law — 
there is no lavv^ to condemn me, nor any fact which 
admits of the application of a law. 

I know that in revolutions, law, as well as justice, 
is often forgotten ; and the proof of it is, that I 
am here. I owe my trial to nothing but the preju- 
dices, and violent animosities, which arise in 
times of great agitation, and which are generally 
directed against those who have been placed in 
conspicuous situations, or are known to possess 
any energy or spirit. It would have been easy for 



MADAME ROLAND. 263 

my courage to put me out of the reach of the sen- 
tence I foresaw ; but I thought it rather became 
me to undergo it ; I thought that I owed the exam- 
ple to my country ; I thought that if I were to be 
condemned, it must be right to leave tyranny all 
the odium of sacrificing a woman, whose crime is 
that of possessing some small talent, which she 
never misapplied, a zealous desire of the welfare of 
mankind, and courage enough to acknowledge her 
unfortunate friends, and to do homage to virtue at 
the risk of her life. Minds, which have any claim 
to greatness, are capable of divesting themselves of 
selfish considerations ; they feel they belong to the 
whole human race ; and their views are directed 
to posterity alone. I am the wife of a virtuous 
man, exposed to persecution; and I was the friend 
of men, who have been proscribed and immolated. 
by delusion, and the hatred of jealous mediocrity. 
It is necessary that I should perish in my turn, be- 
cause it is a rule with tyranny to sacrifice those 
whom it has grievously oppressed, and to annihilate 
the very witnesses of its misdeeds. I have this 
double claim to death from your hands, and I ex- 
pect it. When innocence walks to the scaffold, at 
the command of error and perversity, every step 
she takes is an advance towards glory. May I be 
the last victim sacrificed to the furious spirit of 
party ! I shall quit with joy this unfortunate earth, 
which swallows up the friends of virtue, and drinks 
the blood of the just. 



264 MADAME ROLAND. 

Truth ! friendship ! my country ! sacred objects, 
sentiments dear to my heart, accept my last sacri- 
fice. My life was devoted to you, and you will ren- 
der my death easy and glorious. 

Just heaven ! enlighten this unfortunate people 

for whom I desired liberty Liberty ! — It 

is for noble minds, who despise death, and who 
know how, upon occasion, to give it to themselves. 
It is not for weak beings, who enter into a compo- 
sition with guilt, and cover selfishness and coward- 
ice with the name of prudence. It is not for 
corrupt wretches, who rise from the bed of debauch- 
ery, or from the mire of indigence, to feast their 
eyes on the blood that streams from the scaffold. 
It is the portion of a people, who delight in humani- 
ty, practise justice, despise their flatterers, and 
resi)ect the truth. While you are not such a peo- 
ple, O my fellow-citizens ! you will talk in vain of 
liberty : instead of liberty you will have licentious- 
ness, of which you will all fall victims in your turns : 
you will ask for bread ; dead bodies will be given 
you ; and you will at last bow down your necks to 
the yoke. 

I have neither concealed my sentiments nor my 
opinions. I know that a Roman lady was sent to 
the scaffold for lamenting the death of her son. I 
know that in times of delusion and party rage, he 
who dares avow himself the friend of the condemn- 
ed, or of the proscribed, exposes himself to their 
fate. But I despise death ; I never feared anything 
but guilt, and I will not purchase life at the expense 



MADAME ROLAND. 265 

of a base subterfuge. Wo to the times ! wo to 
the people among whom doing homage to disre- 
garded truth can be attended with danger, — and 
happy he, who in such circumstances is bold enough 
brave it ! 

It is now your part to see whether it answer 
your purpose to condemn me without proof, upon 
mere matter of opinion, and without the support or 
justification of any law. 



NOTE 



LIST OF WORKS REFERRED TO, 

Roland's Appeal to Posterity, 

Kotzebue's Travels. 

La Biographie Universelle. 

Critical Review. 

Lady's Museum. 



ERRATUM. 

Ou page 212, for ' stepping out of the spacious dining-room 
which the elegant Calonne had fitted up for Madame Necker,' 
read merely, ' stepping out of the Bpacious dining room which 
the elegant Calonne had fitted up.' 



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